Nature vs Nurture
by Sexy Meat Pies
Summary: Seven months after their first child is born, Bass and Lindsay try to create a life as normal as possible for her. But that's kind of difficult when they're in a war, the country thinks the baby's father is a dead man, and fireflies are apparently out to destroy the human race. (Sequel to Fight or Flight)
1. Another Day

**Author's note:** **I am so very excited that Lindsay is back! Please note, for this one, that the flashbacks go on sequential order rather than correspond with the events of the chapters they're in. Enjoy and review! :)**

* * *

My eyes bolt open. Truman had slammed the door closed. It's quiet, which means he took her with him. I throw the covers off and run to the door. It's locked. It's always locked. I hear my daughter crying. I start banging on the door.

"Bring her back!," I scream, "please! Let me see my daughter!"

"Lindsay?," a familiar voice calls. Then I hear footsteps, pounding on the ground, coming towards me. "It's ok, Linds!," he says, on the other side of the door.

"Open the door!," I demand.

"I can't, I've got my hands full!"

"Not you, Connor," I say, crying, "Truman, please! Open the door!"

"It's not locked, Lindsay, just open it!"

"Truman, please," I sob. He's got my daughter and now, for whatever reason, he's hurting Connor. Maybe he's going to use him to make me cooperate. I've somehow pissed him off. "Please, just open it."

"What's going on?," Miles asks frantically.

"No! Leave him alone!," I cry. Why does he have them both? What did I even do?! "Let them both go! Just leave them alone! I'll do whatever you want!"

"Linds, it's me, it's Miles," he tells me, "it's just us. It's all in your head. He's not here."

"Don't make him lie to me!," I scream, banging on the door, "I _know_ you're there! Leave them alone! Open the door! Stop keeping me _in_ here!" I sink to the ground, my back against the locked door. "Please..."

"Get Bass! Go! Get her husband!," Miles commands.

"He's dead, Miles! You know he is. Even if they told you differently. He is dead."

"No, he's not, Linds. Come out, it's ok."

"The door is locked."

"No, it's not," he insists. Why wouldn't it be? It _always_ is!

"Truman, please," I beg. He won't even admit he's there. He has exactly zero respect for me. "I've been good. I've done everything you wanted. I've been quiet, and... I've listened to you... I've done everything you asked. Please, give me my daughter." I try something else. _"Please, Ed."_

"Lindsay?," Bass calls.

"Bass?!," I shout, scrambling onto my knees, facing the door. No! This is impossible! I must be imagining it! "Bass, you're dead!"

"No, I'm not, Linds, I'm here," he says.

"No, he killed you. You..."

"Lindsay, listen to me," he says, "close your eyes." I do. "Now just listen to my voice. I am here. I'm alive, and I am holding Angie. Ok? I have her in my arms. You hear that? She stopped crying. She wouldn't have if he was still holding her." He does have a point. "Really think, Linds. What happened last night? Really happened?"

"Connor came home, bleeding," I whisper.

"Ok, why?"

"He came across a Patriot wagon."

"Exactly. And who brought him home?"

"You did," I sigh, leaning my head against the door. I remember now. I was dreaming, about Truman. He's dead. Angie is ok.

"And who did you sleep next to last night?"

"You."

"Yes. Me. Now open your eyes and look around. Where are you?"

"In our bedroom." It's not actually a bedroom, of course. We're still in the factory we were in when I had Angela. Bass and I still have what was once the break room. With our futon bed, and Angie's cradle that Connor made. And the little kitchen, with the oil lit oven.

"Now stand up and open the door," he says softly. I stand up and slowly turn the handle. It's not locked, and it opens. I look up to see Connor, Miles, and Bass. And Bass is holding Angie. "Are you ok?"

"Yes," I sniff, and wipe the tears off, "I'm ok. Give her here." He hands me Angie.

"Lindsay, I'm so sorry," Connor says, "She was crying, and you were sleeping. I should've-"

"It's ok," I assure him, kissing Angie's head.

"Is there anyth-"

"Just... let her cool off, ok?," Bass murmurs.

"Hey," I smile, "Hey, baby girl." I sit in the armchair with her, as Bass comes in, and closes the door.

"You're sure you're ok?"

"No, I'm not," I admit, looking up at him, "I'm crazy, Bass."

"You're not crazy, you're just...," he shakes his head, "PTSD comes in all different ways."

"I shouldn't be having episodes still," I argue, "They were supposes to end when he died!"

"That was never a guarantee," he says, "it's only been seven months. Some people deal with flashbacks for years."

"Oh, that comforts me," I say sarcastically. "But I know that. I mean, I... you know, I've done that. But he never actually did anything to me."

"He got pretty damn close," Bass says, angrily. He sighs to calm himself down. "Look, I'm sure it'll be ok soon. And it's not like you have them every day anymore. This is the first time in a while. It happens in steps, Linds."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I murmur.

"Good," he says, "now, if you want, Rachel's got breakfast ready. And I was mashing up some apples for Angie. You want me to bring you some eggs?"

"No," I shake my head, "no, I need to get up. Wait- eggs? Where did we get eggs?"

He smiles, "The cart that Connor ran into last night."

"Well, alright then," I chuckle, "I'm going to go help her with that. If you want to take her."

"Yeah, sure," he takes Angie out of my arms, "c'mon, sweetie, daddy's gonna make you some breakfast." I smile, as he takes her out the door. Then I get dressed and run a brush through my hair.

The main room is as busy as it always is. Some of the guys just got back from a scouting trip to Willoughby, which Rachel sends them on frequently. There was no change. The Patriots still have control over it, but no one is dying. We're still trying to find their latest training camp. But now, there are guys cleaning weapons, talking, eating, just relaxing. It's so bright in here, though, because of the many doors and windows.

"Hey, Linds, you ok?," Miles asks.

"I'm fine, Miles," I assure him, "thanks. What's going on?," I ask, as I realize everyone seens super excited.

"Uh, Rachel is making bacon."

"Bacon?"

"Apparently. I have no idea what those Patriots eat, but apparently they do have bacon."

"Huh," I mutter.

"Remember when it used to take more than bacon to get someone exicted?," he chuckled.

"Oh, please, you're first memory was the first time you had bacon."

"That is... probably true," he chuckles.

"Matheson!," someone calls. He looks towards a group of clan guys.

"Gotta go," he says, and walks toward them.

I weave through the crowd of people, just trying to find Rachel. I get into the room we use as a kitchen, and find her, moving bacon around on a pan over the fire with a fork.

"You made bacon?," I ask.

"It increases the morale a hell of a lot more," she replies. "You want some?"

"Hell, yeah, I want some," I chuckle.

"Well, this is the last of it," she says, putting one of them on a metal plate. She takes the last one and just eats it.

"Oh, my God, that's good," I tell her. "That is so good."

"Thank you very much," she says, and sits down. "Where's Angie?"

"Bass has got her."

"Hm," she murmurs, chewing. She swallows, and asks, "are they going back out soon?"

"Not until they find something to go out against."

"There was apparently some sort of Patriot group heading toward Austin."

"Yeah, Scanlon took a group early this morning."

"Think they'll stop them?"

"I hope so," I reply, then sigh, "when is this going to be over?"

"The war?"

"It's been so long," I say, "I'm not even sure how long we've been fighting them. But, I just want it to be over before Angela's firsr birthday."

"Well," she sighs, drinking some water, "don't get your hopes up."

* * *

**Seventeen years before the Blackout**

_I drop my dolls as mom calls us to the kitchen. Dad adds a 'now', and Ben and I look at each other before looking at Miles, who's playing his PlayStation. _

_"Why are you looking at me?," he demands._

_"What did you do?", Ben asks._

_"I didn't do anything," he snaps. "What did you do?" Even though I'm only five, and Ben's only four, we know it was Miles. It's always Miles. _

_"Let's go, guys!," dad calls. We walk down the hallway, and into the kitchen. Mom and dad don't look angry. Just very, very serious. _

_"Sit down, please," she says. We sit at the kitchen table, and glance at Miles. He doesn't look nervous._

_"Do you guys know why you're here?," dad asks._

_"No," Ben says. I just shake my head, while Miles stares back at them. _

_"You're here, because," mom pauses dramatically, then a huge smile break her face, "we're going to Disney World."_

* * *

"Hey, Aaron," I greet, as he walks into the factory.

"You know I still can't get past the fact that you guys live in a factory," he chuckles, "and act like it's a home."

"Well, we don't have a choice, do we?," I ask, then smile. "But, trust me, I want a house just as much as the next guy. But this place is safe. And Angie likes it, right, baby?" I look down at her playing with the carved wooden blocks.

"Haha," Aaron says awkwardly. I keep forgetting he doesn't actually like kids. They 'skeeve him out'. At least that's what he told me that day in Ohio, when we saved the kid on the conscript ship.

"So, um, where's Priscilla?," I ask. We never really see her much. Not since they moved to a safe house about an hour away from here.

"She's good," he says, almost nervously.

"Ok, great, but I said where?"

"Oh, right, um," he chuckles, "she stayed behind. After, uh, all that nannite business, you know, she thinks she's done enough walking."

"Oh, ok," I murmur, "so, what can I help you with?"

"Uh, I was looking for, um, Rachel," he says, "you two are conjoined at the hip, usually, so I figured you might know were she is."

"Well, I don't, actually," I say, with a frown, "she might be with Miles? In the weapons shed, out back."

"Thanks," he nods. He walks away and I ponder what he said. Rachel and I usually are conjoined at the hip... but that's not true. Not anymore. It was true in college, it was true in Philly. But not now. I feel like ever since I came to Willoughby... no, not since I came to Willoughby. We were fine then. Ever since Bass came to Willoughby... we've grown apart. But especially since Bass... well, since we thought he died. Since I asked her to save him? Could that be it? Could she be angry at me for that?

I pick up Angela, and she drops her blocks, fussing. She reaches for them, and I shush her gently.

"We're going to go outside," I tell her, "see daddy, ok?"

"Da-da-da-da," she babbles. I kiss her head, and smile.

"Yes, da-da," I murmur to her. When she first started babbling, Bass insisted she was saying 'da-da', a premature form of 'daddy'. But, after consulting Rachel's mom's book, I told him it was just babbling. That even though she could tell he was her father emotionally, she couldn't express it vocally just yet. But, he insisted.

I look around the area, the sky getting darker, from the containment units that some of the guys sleep in, to the garden I started two months ago. I see Aaron walking towars the weapons shed, and find Rachel.

"Hey, Lindsay," one of the guys calls.

"Hi, Vincent," I nod to him, with a small smile. "Scanlon not back yet?"

"No, ma'am," he shakes his head. "Hey, do you know where there's some water?" I notice he's holding his hands up, and there's blood on his dark skin.

"Um, there might be some on the bridge," I suggest, "what happened?"

"Just butchering some animals," he assures me. He nods one more time and walks off. I wonder if Garrett taught them to butcher properly. No, no, no. I'm not thinking about Garrett.

I see a little flickering in the corner of my eye and see fireflies light up. Angela notices them too and reaches for them, babbling in fascination.

"Say 'light'," I intruct absentmindedly, _"light."_

"La-la-la," she says. I smile. Close enough. Holding her with one arm, I reach out and catch on of the bugs, cupping my hand around it. It lights up, and she shrieks and claps. I open my hand and let it fly away. Angie reaches for it, whining. I chuckle, and let her try to catch some for a while.

"Hey," Bass says. I look up to see him behind me.

"Hey," I repeat, kissing him. Angie looks round and reaches for him. He grins and takes her.

"Hey, baby," he says, holding her. "What are you and mommy doing?"

"Say 'catching fireflies'," I say, smoothing down her hair.

"Fun," he murmurs, handing her back to me. "So, um, Linds... listen."

"What's up?," I ask, but I smile when Angela looks at me.

"Scanlon isn't back yet."

"I know, Vincent told me."

"If he's not back tonight, I'm going after him."

"You're going tonight?," I ask, looking at him.

"No," he says, then sighs, "in the morning."

"But-but he may just be camping tonight," I protest, "I mean, Austin's a long way away, he might just-"

"Linds," he cuts me off, "Scanlon isn't stupid. He's either hurt or captive."

"You don't think he's...?"

"No, I think he's alive. But, I gotta go get him."

"Ok," I agree, finally, "just you?"

"Miles, too," he says, "probably Connor. Maybe Charlie. Do you know where your brother is?"

"Somewhere over there?," I nod to the weapons shed.

"Ok, thanks," he says, kissing my cheek, then walking off.

"You're welcome," I murmur, even though he's gone.

* * *

_"No, we're going to the Animal Kingdom first!," Miles argues, grabbing the checklist mom made out of my hands._

_"I want to go to the Magic one though!," I argue. I can't recall the name of it._

_"Ok, just calm down," mom attempts, looking at us through the mirror, "we'll be there for four days, we've got-"_

_"But we can go to the zoo any time!," I shout, "but there's only one magic place!"_

_"Technically, there's two," Ben argues, "one in Florida, one in California."_

_"But we're here now! There's a zoo an hour away from Jasper!"_

_"This zoo is different!," Miles argues._

_"Alright, enough!," dad exclaims. "If you guys keep fighting, I will turn this car around and we will just go home." I turn to Miles and stick my tongue out._

_"You're so immature," he mutters. _

_"What do you think, Ben?," mom asks, "Where would you like to go first?"_

_"I don't care," Ben says, sighing. He looks at his toy._

_"Ben, baby, what's wrong?"_

_"Nothing," he mutters._

_"He just misses preschool!," I tell her, "he told me before we left!"_

_"Oh, Ben," mom sighs, "you're gonna be done in two weeks anyway."_

_"I know," he mutters._

_"Then it's off to kindergarten!"_

_"Wait, but you're four," Miles points out._

_"He tested to start early," dad says, "honestly, Miles, don't you ever listen?"_

_"No," Ben and I say at the same time._

* * *

"Ok, ready?," I ask, getting ready to catch another firefly, "one, two, three! Get it!" I catch it, and then let it crawl into her hand, cupping mine around it so it can't get away. "Good job! You did it!"

"Hey, Lindsay," Aaron says, coming up beside me.

"Hey," I look over at him, "staying here tonight?"

"No, I gotta get back," he sighs.

"But it's so late," I protest, "you can't walk back in the dark."

"Oh, well, you know," he shrugs, "Priscilla... worries if I'm away for too long."

"Surely she wouldn't want you walking for an hour in the dark," I argue. "We have plenty of room."

"Room that isn't shared with war clan guys?"

"They're not that bad," I tell him, "and some of them are gone right now."

"Nah, I gotta get back," he insists.

"Aaron-," I start, but Angie cuts me off. She squeals as the bug lights up again, tugging on my hair to get my attention. "I see it, sweetheart." I tell her, opening my hand more.

"What is th- Lindsay, get that thing off!," Aaron shouts, slapping her hand so the firefly goes away. She starts crying.

"What- Aaron!," I shout, twisting so she's out of his reach. He swats at the air to make the bugs fly away from us. "What are you _doing?"_

"Hey!," Bass calls, jogging over, taking Angela. He puts a hand on my shoulder, "are you ok?"

"Yeah," I nod, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just take her inside, will you?"

"Yeah, sure," he says, then looks at Aaron, "what the hell is wrong with you, Stay-Puft?" Then he leaves.

"Oh, God," Aaron gasps, "oh, I am so s-"

"What the hell was that?!," I demand.

"I'm sorry," he says, "but those things... just, you should not be touching them."

"Those things meaning lightening bugs?," I ask.

"Yes."

"Aaron, seriously," I stare at him, "I know you're afraid of bees and all that, but c'mon. You can't tell me you never chased fireflies as a kid?"

"Ok, first of all, I'm allergic," he corrects, _"allergic_ to beas. And second of all, yeah, I did. But that was before fireflies were little devil machines."

"What?," I ask, in exasperation.

"The nannites," he says, "they appear as, like... fireflies."

"So every firefly is a little tiny machine intent on ending the world?"

"No! But, I mean, every one _could_ be."

"That's insane," I say quietly, "Aaron, you really shouldn't be walking-"

"No, I'm going home," he insists, "just... find something else to do with your kid."

"Ok, then," I mutter, "good night."

"Yeah," he sighs, "yeah, good night."

I walk into to the building, and say goodnight to everyone. Walking up the steps, I watch Aaron walk into the dark. I shake my head, and go into my room.

"Hey," I whisper, upon seeing Angela, her eyes closed, in Bass' arms. "She asleep?"

"Yeah," he whispers. "Did Stay-puft leave?"

I nod. "Yes."

"Good."

"I'm worried about him," I say, "he's been... different since he came back. And he never stays anywhere without Priscilla long... I don't know. He's just been weird."

"Well, he was always a little off," Bass says, "if you ask me."

"Well, you never really knew him," I mutter, putting pajamas on.

"Are you ok?," he asks, putting Angela in her crib.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine," I murmur, I mean, I'm worried about Scanlon, but..."

"Not that," he says, coming over to me, and pulling me closer, his hands on my hips. "You seem upset."

"It's just... Aaron said something that bugs me. A lot."

"Hmm," he sighs, sliding his hands up and down over the skin on my sides, "what?"

"Just that Rachel and I used to be really close," I say, "and I realized we're not any more. Not really. Why is that?"

"I don't know," he says, laying down on the bed. I lay down next to him, and he props himself up on his elbow.

"I feel like she just doesn't like being around me," I sigh, "like I did something to make her angry."

"It'll be ok," he assures me, "maybe you should talk to her."

"Maybe," I agree. "When are you leaving tomorrow?"

"As soon as the sun comes up," he replies.

"Wake me up before you go."

"You know I won't."

"Bass-"

"There's no reason for you to get up," he says.

"Yes, there is," I argue, "to say goodbye."

"Say goodbye now."

"I don't like doing that," I say, turning away from him.

"Oh, c'mon," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around me, and resting his chin on my shoulder, "why not?"

"I just don't like going to sleep with you there, and waking up with you gone."

"You're worried about me," he notes.

"Well, yeah," I say in a 'duh' tone.

"I'll be fine. It's not something you should be worried about."

"Then why isn't Scanlon back yet?," I ask, looking at him over my shoulder.

"Well," he kisses my nose, "I'm not Scanlon."

"Don't be cocky," I say coolly, laying back down, "and don't get shot."

"Is that a goodbye?," he asks, chuckling.

"Yes."

"Alright then," he says, settling down, but still holding me. "Goodbye."

"I love you, Bass," I murmur, closing my eyes.

"I love you, too," he says, kissing my ear, "so damn much."


	2. History Was Written by the Victors

"Ok, Alex," Gene says, sitting down, putting his glasses on, "not dead yet?"

"No, doc, not yet" the war clan member says, "thanks to Lindsay's excellent care I'm not." I smile as I finish sewing up a cut on his arm, tie it off, and straighten up.

"Well, where does it hurt?," he asks.

"Uh, right around here, I guess," Alex says, pointing to his upper stomach.

"I see," Gene says, feeling around there, "Lindsay?"

"Hm?," I turn around, as I was about to walk away.

"What area am I looking at?"

"Gene, really?," I ask. "You _know._ It's not like you genuinely forgot."

"Sit," he commands. I sigh, but do so. "If you're gonna help me, you're gonna do it right. I didn't make you read all that stuff for no reason. Now, what area am I looking at?"

I stare coolly at him as I reply, "you're looking in the left iliac region," I look at Alex, "It's possible you've ruptured the descending colon. But you may also have just pulled the rectus abdominus muscle, the latismus dorsi muscle, the-"

"Woah, woah," Alex puts his hands up, "I have _no_ idea what you're saying."

"So it's pointless right?", I ask, with a small laugh.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless," he chuckles. He shifts position and grimaces.

"Wait, don't move," Gene instructs, noticing. He touches a spot on Alex's back and he inhales sharply. "Ok, most likely, you've pulled your rectus abdominus."

"Isn't that what she said?," Alex points to me.

"Hey!," I cheer, and high five him.

"Ow," he mutters, holding his stomach.

"Yeah, no high fiving," Gene says, "or stretching or fighting or-"

"Basically don't move," I interrupt, "for, twelve hours, right, Gene?"

"That's right," he says tightly. "You can go." He stands up, walking carefully away. I start putting up the supplies I used.

"Lindsay," Gene says.

"Yeah?," I ask, not looking up.

"You gotta stop," he says.

"Stop what?"

"That. Challenging my authority," he snaps. I look up. "I get it. You want to help. And learning body cavities and organ placement is not the funnest thing in the world. But this is not _Grey's Anatomy_. There's not gonna be a pancreaticoduodenectomy every time someone walks through those doors." Those doors meaning the large room that was once an inventory room in rhe factory, just off of the entry room

"Look, I just got over the sight of blood," I reply, "I'm not looking for major surgery. But I don't think treating me like a child will help."

"It's what they would do in hospitals before the Blackout," he replies, "and shouldn't your men have the best care as possible?" Ok, he's got a point.

"Ok, fine," I mutter, "but if there is a pancreatic- _whatever,_ I don't want any pop quizzes "

"If I had to perform a pancreaticoduodenectomy here, _now,"_ he says, "I'm not even letting you in the room."

"Fair en-"

"Lindsay!," Connor shouts. Before I turn, I hear feet slapping on the concrete floor. I swivel around to sew him in front of me, blood on his shirt.

"Connor!," I exclaim. What happened?!, "Are-are you ok? What-"

"I'm fine," he says, "do you have a bed ready?"

"Yeah, there's one right here," I gesture to the cot beside me. "What's up? Is everyone ok?"

"There was an incident," he says, not looking me in the eye.

"Connor," I whisper, "Connor, look at me!" He does. "Is it him? Is Bass- is he...?"

"It's not him," he assures me. He looks over his shoulder, "bring him in, guys!" I look past him to see Miles and Bass carrying someone in. They're bodies hide his face, but the soon as they lay him on the bed, I shriek.

"Scanlon!," I cry, going to his side, "Oh my God! What happened?"

"Ambush," Bass pants. "They'd taken him captive."

"They didn't- Oh, God, Bass," I whisper, "they didn't torture him, did they?"

"Not as far as I can tell," he says, "but they were waiting for us. He got shot."

"Linds," Miles says softly, and puts a hand on my shoulder, "where's Rachel?"

"She's-she's with Angie," I reply, holding Scanlon's hand.

"Go get her."

"No! I'm not leaving!"

"Lindsay," Gene starts.

"The wound is in his abdominopelvoc cavity," I stand up, looking at him, "it probably pierced the gall bladder. There's a lot of bleeding, and you'll have to a cross suture, or he'll bleed out and die. But first I have to sterilize the tools."

"Good job," he says, calmly, "but Rachel has more experience. If you want him to be ok, go get her." I look at Scanlon's pale face.

"Linds, go," Bass says softly, "go take care of our baby." I look between all of them, and then run towards the main room, towards Rachel.

"Rachel!," I shout, running over to her.

"Linds, what's wrong?," she stops playing with Angela and looks up.

"It's Scanlon," I gasp, "he's been shot. You have to go help him."

"Ok, ok," she says, picking up Angie and putting her in my arms. "It'll be ok, Linds."

"Just go save him," I plead. She runs off toward the medical room, while I hold Angie. She looks at my tear streaked face in puzzlement. I wipe the tears away and smile. "I'm ok," I promise her, "mommy's fine."

Scanlon is pretty much my best friend. I mean, besides Rachel. But like I told Bass, we've grown apart. I don't know how we got so close, but we did. We joke around a lot. He will jokingly hit on me. Sometime I flirt back, but everyone knows neither of us would ever act on it. And _everyone_ knows about it. Except Bass. It's not that we're hiding it from him necessarily. It's just that he has a bit of a jealousy problem... I just need Scanlon to pull through.

* * *

**Sixteen years before the Blackout**

_"Happy birthday, Lindsay!," mom calls as I run out of my room. As I expected, there are pancakes waiting on the table. I grin and sit down. _

_"Happy birthday," Miles mutters, walking out of his own room. _

_"Thanks," I say, as mom puts pancakes on my plate. "Where's Ben?"_

_"Um, I guess in his room," she says, "Ben, c'mon! Breakfast!" He comes out, and sits down._

_"Happy birthday."_

_"Thanks, I repeat, eating my breakfast. "When do we get cake?"_

_"Not until after dinner, silly," mom chuckles, kissing my head. "Dad is going to come home early, then we're going to go somewhere."_

_"Where?!," I shout, practically bouncing out of my chair._

_"It's a surprise," she says, "and then we're gonna come back and do dinner and presents and cake."_

_"Daddy said she can bring a friend too," Ben points out. "He told me yesterday."_

_"Ooh, can Bass come?!," Miles asks excitedly._

_"No," mom says, "it's Lindsay's birthday. She gets to choose a friend, not you. Who do you want, Linds?" I think about it. I'm sure mom wants me to call Aleisha, or one of the girls from my class. But I'm just trying to think of who I'd have the most fun with._

_"I want Bass to come, too!," I tell her. She sighs. _

_"Go call him, Miles."_

* * *

"Hey," Bass calls. I look up, letting go of the blocks I was stacking for Angie.

"How is he?"

"He's... stable, I think," he sighs, kneeling down to comply with Angie's request by reaching for him. He pulls her onto his lap, and she shows him all the different blocks we have set out. She holds one up, brushing his cheek with it. He gently pushes it away as he fixes me with a careful look, "he'll be ok."

"Ok," I murmur.

"Linds," he starts, in that worried voice, as I stand and go to check the soup.

"What, Bass?"

"You can't worry so much," he says, not getting up from the floor. "If you freak out like that every time someone comes in bleeding... it's not good for you."

"He was dying, Bass," I defend myself, "he looked dead."

"I know," he stands up, and lets Angela play by herself. "But it's only gonna stress you out. And you know what stress does to you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie, stirring the hot, thick soup around.

"Yes, you do," he argues, pushing my hair behind my shoulder. "When you get stressed, it triggers flashbacks."

"You want me to stop being stressed?," I ask, "Stop leaving me."

"You know I can't do that," he says softly, leaning against the counter next to me. "I've gotta fight them."

"I know, I didn't mean...," I sigh, "you're just not doing anything. You're intercepting carts and spying on Willoughby, but what good is it doing, Bass?"

"The group that attacked Scanlon," he says softly, "were on their way to kidnap the Texas Secretary of state."

"And they're dead now?"

"Yes. But, um," he sighs, looking at Angela playing, rather than me, "they had some maps and letters and things on them. Linds, we... we found another training camp."

"What?," I look up.

"Yeah," he brings his gaze to me, "about five days from here."

"Oh," I look away, "when do you leave?"

"Two days," he says.

"Ok."

"That's it? You're not gonna argue?"

"It doesn't matter if I do," I say quietly, "you'll just go anyway. You'll attack it as soon as possible whether I waste my breath or not."

"We're not _attacking_ in two days," he murmurs. "We're leaving in two days."

"Same thing."

"No, Linds, listen," he says, looking down at me. "This place is three days away, if we camp _every_ night. We can't send riders with mail every week."

"Ok," I mutter again, but my eyes are flicking between him and the pot.

"I want you to come," he says suddenly.

"What?," I ask, looking up, caught off guard. "But-but Angie. And, I- _what?"_

"There's a house," he says, smiling a bit at my reaction. "A good house too. It's red. Three bedrooms. And it's-"

"How do you know this?," I ask. He looks doubtful. "Bass..."

"Ok, I've known about this camp for a bit longer than the past few hours."

"How much longer?," I demand.

"Uh," he clears his throat, "two weeks."

"Two _weeks?!,"_ I exclaim, "Why-why haven't you told me? Who all knows?"

"Just me, Miles, and Jason," he says.

"Why Jason?"

"He found it," he replies. "He told me and when I found out how far away it was, I... I didn't want to go off that far, without you. Without my men able to adequate care if they get injured. So I had Jason scout it out some more. He found a house, and he's been sitting on it for a while. It's safe. There's room for you, me, the baby. Miles, Rachel, Charlie, and Connor too."

"But-but what about everybody else?"

"There is a hospital, too," he says slowly, with a smile, "it's... safe, as far as we know. Well stocked. I don't know how much is useable, but Gene will... its ten minutes from the house, maybe. It's... it's kind of perfect, Linds."

"Perfect except kids are in captivity and we could be saving them!," I insist.

"Lindsay, Jason's been checking that out, too," he says, "no way to get in, not yet anyway."

"Well, how's that going to change?," I ask.

"Camp just started up," he says, sitting down. "Security is tight now, but Jason says they ease up every day. I figure, we go there... when we can get in, we will."

"So... we're going to have a house?," I ask.

"Yeah," he smiles.

"And Gene's going to get a whole hospital?"

"Yep."

"Oh, my gosh."

"Linds, you realize," he says slowly, "that I won't get to stay there forever, right? I'll have to go away, just like I do now."

"Yeah, but at least you'll have a home to come back to," I mutter.

"Hey," he says, standing. He walks over to me, and wraps his arms around my waist. "Hey, this is a home."

I scoff. "This is an abandoned factory."

"Where we live," he insists, "where you make soup, and we play with our daughter. Linds, this is our home because you make it that way."

"I know, but-," I'm interrupted by a knock. Bass lets go of me, and we both go over to thw door, but I stop to pick up Angela.

"Yeah?," I ask, opening it.

"You can see him now," Rachel tells me. Bass comes up behind me, and her face visibly sours. "He's not awake, but he's stable, and you can see him."

"Thank you," I say. She nods, then starts to walk away. I look after her sadly, wanting to call out, and try and fix things. Bass looks at me, then looks at her.

"Hey, Rachel, wait up!," he calls, kissing my forehead. He murmurs to me something about telling her the plan, and I nod. "I'll be along to see Scanlon soon."

"Ok," I say. We go opposite ways, and I hurry down to the medical room. Connor is just walking out, talking to Charlie.

"Lindsay, hey," she greets me.

"Hey," I say, out of breath. "Hey, how is everyone?"

"Couple of wounded guys," Connor replies. "Gene is working on them now. No one needs to be especially worried over. Except Scanlon." Charlie elbows him.

"Here, let me take her," she offers, taking Angela, "and give you some time with him."

"Thank you," I say, running a hand through my hair, "thanks. Um, there are, uh, bottles in my room. And, diapers-"

"I've got it, Lindsay," she says, "go see him. Gene says it'll help a lot." I nod, and hurry in there, running the bed where I left Scanlon. He's less pale, but he still looks bad. I sit in the stool next to him, and feel his forehead. He's burning up. I look around frantically.

"Marcus," I call, catching sight of him. "Can you go get me some water, please?" He nods, and grabs a bucket, going out. I look down at Scanlon. "You're doing this to torture me, aren't you?," I ask, with a smile. "Yeah, this is to get back at me for all those times I rejected you."

He doesn't answer, obviously.

"Here you go," Marcus hands the bucket to me. I thank him and dip a cloth in it. Oh, good, it's cool. I squeeze it out and start pressing it to his face, cooling it down.

"You know," I murmur, as I move back his hair to lay the cloth on his forehead. "Pretending to almost die will not get me to sleep with you."

"Hey, Linds, can we borrow this stool?," Gene asks. "I've gotta do some sutures and-"

"Yeah, that's fine," I say, and stand up. After he takes it, I sit on the bed.

"Hey, if you want to feed him, there's oatmeal there," he nods to the table. I nod and pick it up.

"Now, you're going to make me feed you like a baby," I murmur, as I mush it up more, "if I have to cook and clean for you too, I'll lose it. You'd get a kick out of it, though," I chuckle, "knowing you, you'd make some remark about me dressing you too. Well, that's not going to happen." I see Bass walk in and go to talk to Gene. I look back to Scanlon, and get ready to sit him up, make him swallow, when he groans. "Scanlon?," I ask.

"Lindsay?," he turns his head, then opens his eyes.

* * *

_"Where are we going?," I ask excitedly, sitting next to Bass. Miles is next to him, and Ben is in one of the seats in the middle. Dad is driving._

_"You just want to tell her?," mom asks. "She's just going to keep asking."_

_"Nope," dad insists, "we're almost there."_

_"Daddy!," I whine, "you said that ten minutes ago!" _

_"Well, now we're actually here," he pulls into the parking lot of the fair grounds. I press myself against the window to get a better look, and try to read the banner._

_"D-dubois County...," I squint, "an..."_

_"Annual," Miles says._

_"...Annual History Fair!," I exclaim. I've always wanted to come! Mom and dad always said 'when you're a little older!' "Really?!"_

_"Thousands of years and cultures, in one time and place," dad reads off the flier._

_"Do they have, like, Civil War stuff?," Bass asks._

_"They have __**everything!,"**__ I say, clapping. _

_"You like history, Bass?," mom asks._

_"Well, I-I'm kind of into the Civil War," he shrugs. _

_ "Yay! Let's go there first!"_

* * *

"Oh, my God," I breathe in relief.

"Mm," he shifts his position, "it's always nice to wake up to a beautiful woman in your bed."

"I'm on your bed, dummy, not in it," I chuckle. At least he's acting himself.

"Eh, same difference," he shrugs.

"Ok, I'm going to get Gene," I say, starting to get up. He grabs my wrist.

"Oh, c'mon, Lindsay," he grins, _"you_ can take care of me."

"Yeah, no, I'm getting Gene," I roll my eyes, then call, "Gene! He's awake!" I notice Bass is gone, and Gene comes over.

"Well, I was wondering when you'd wake up," Gene says. "But ok, now that you are, I'm going to have Lindsay test your functionality," Scanlon grins at me. I look away, biting my tongue so I don't laugh. "and then I'll check up on you later. In case I don't see you until tomorrow, though, you'll need to do certain stretches every day, around noon. Got that?"

"I might need some help with that, doc," he says, "but if you're busy..."

"Oh, well, I'm sure Lindsay can help you out, right, Linds?," he turns to me. I look between them, mouth agape.

"Yeah," I shake my head, "Yeah, I got it."

"Ok, then," Gene pats my shoulder, "check him out."

"Yeah, Lindsay," Scanlon says after Gene's gone. "Check me out." I notice Bass walks in, carrying water bottles.

"I hate you," I glare at him. "I hate you _so_ much."

"Oh, c'mon," he laughs, "now you can touch me all you want and your husband can't even get angry."

"Oh, yeah, ok," I stifle a laugh. "Shut up and lift your arms," he does, "now your legs." He does. "And sit up." He does that too. "Ok, you're fine. Any pain, anywhere?" I press my hand against his organs. "This hurt at all?"

"No," he says, then chuckles, "but you forgot to check an organ."

"What? No, I didn't," I reply, looking at him.

"Uh, yes, you did," he says, looking ready to burst with laughter. He looks down. I follow his gaze.

"Oh, my _God,_ Scanlon!," I exclaim, as I realize what he's talking about. "Shut up."

"No, Lindsay, I'm worried about it," he teases. "You should probably check it out."

"I am so not talking to you right now," I say, writing down his chart.

"Lindsay, c'mon," he laughs. I shake my head, trying not to smile. "Lindsay, what if something's wrong with it?" I ignore him. "Psst," he whispers, "Lindsay!"

"Not talking to you," I insist, writing.

"Lindsay, seriously," he says, and his voice gets faint. I look up, but he seems fine. "I need you... to speak French."

"Excuse me?"

"If you speak French, we'll find out if it works real fast."

"Scanlon!," I gasp, "my husband is _right over there."_

"Lindsay," he raises his voice, "I need _help."_ Some people closer to us look over.

"Scanlon, please, hush," I beg, but a laugh escapes my mouth.

"My penis could be very seriously injured, Lindsay!," he says, too loud, "I am very worried about my penis, and you-"

"Shut up!," I exclaim, through a fit of laughter, and cover his mouth with my hand, then hit his hand with the clipboard. I remove it just as Bass comes over.

"Hanging in there, Scanlon?," he asks.

"I think I am, General," he says politely. Well now he's calling him general just to bug me. "Barely, but, hey, I'm alive."

"Well, good," he nods, "I thought we'd lost you there for a while."

"Aw, you must've been heartbroken."

"Well, you know, I kept my cool," Bass says, shrugging, "Lindsay, however," he chuckles, looping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer, "was an absolute mess."

"Really?," Scanlon asks, looking up at me.

"I wouldn't say a mess," I snap, pulling away from Bass.

"Ok, deny it all you want," he chuckles, "where's the baby?"

"Charlie's got her," I say.

"Alright," he starts to go.

"Bass, wait," I call, jogging over to him. "We can't move him in two days. We're going to have to wait. Plus, the others. No extensive injuries, but five days of walking, or on a horse, or a wagon? Not feasible at this point."

"Ok, well, I'll talk to Gene," he says, "figure out when we can go."

"Ok, thanks."

"No problem," he kisses me. "Mm, Miles and I might do a scout out of Willoughby before we go away though, possibly tonight. So... your gun." He hands it to me, and I take it.

"Ok, go get the baby," I murmur. He smiles and kisses my cheek, before walking away.

"Have I told you how adorable you guys are?," Scanlon calls. I walk back over to him, using my gun for emphasis.

"Listen," I say, leaning on the bed to get in his face, "I know I just thought you were going to die. And yeah, I cried. But if you don't cut it out, I _will_ you." I put my gun in the back of my jeans and walk away.

"Linds!," he calls.

"What?," I ask, sighing, and not turning to face him.

"It's working."

I just walk away, not letting him know that I'm actually about to burst with laughter.

* * *

** Please review! :3**


	3. Jealousy is a Blue Eyed Monster(?)

I walk through the main room, carrying a blanket and a pillow. Angela crawls next to me. I tried to carry her, but she insisted. I go into the medical room, and then pick her up. She fights but I keep hold of her. There's too much stuff she doesn't need to be getting into.

"Stand up," I command Scanlon as I reach his bed.

"Excuse me?," he looks up. He's reading one of my books.

"Get up so I can make the bed," I say firmly. He does so, sitting on the bed next to it. I put Angie next to him.

"Hey, Ang," he says, holding up his palm. She hits it in way of a high five. I start putting the new blanket on the bed. "Are you seriously still mad about yesterday?," he asks me. "You know I was kidding."

"Yeah, well," I sigh, "Bass kept asking me what we were laughing about."

"He's your husband, Linds," he points out, "and you've been with the guy for twenty years. I'm pretty sure he's gonna trust you." I haven't technically been with him for twenty years straight. There was all that time in Philly.

"How do you like the book?," I ask, quickly changing the subject as I finish making the bed. He sits back down on it.

"Eh," he shrugs, "it's very...I don't know. It's weird."

"Weird how?"

"Like, why are Sydney and Charles identical?"

"Um, I don't know," I shrug, "but it plays into the plot, I promise."

"And is it _all_ a romance?"

"Well, kind of," I agree, sitting next to Angela. "But, there's some other stuff there too. It's about the French Revolution, so..."

"Ah," he says, uninterested.

"You want another one?," I ask.

"Yes, please," he grins, "one with more action."

"Do you like biographies?," I ask.

"Uh, depends," he shrugs. "Biography of what?"

"It's about the flag raisers at Iwo Jima, during World War II," I reply, standing, "It's called _Flags of Our Fathers_."

"Action?"

"Tons," I assure him, "but it's sad."

"I'll try it," he agrees.

"I'll go get it," I murmur. I pick up Angie, and _A Tale of Two Cities_, and start walking back to my room. I'm passing through the main room, when I hear a raised voice, then someone hush them.

"Would you be quiet?," it demands, as I get closer. "Someone will hear!"

"I hope they do," the voice returns.

"We need to talk about this," the other insists. It sounds like Bass and Rachel.

"We have," Rachel says back.

"No, no, we didn't," Bass says, "I tried to talk about it, and you walked away, Rachel." What are they arguing about? And where are they?

"Fine," she says, in her soft but angry voice, "you want to know why I've grown apart?"

"I just think-"

"It's because I _hate_ seeing you with her," she says, angrily. Oh, my God. "I hate seeing you kiss her, seeing you touch her."

"Rachel, I know-"

"Don't you dare, you son of a bitch," she says. I look behind some of the boxes and machinery, trying to find them. "Don't do you dare act like you know."

"She chose to stay with me. I have her every opportunity to leave, and she still loves me. I get it, you're scared I'll hurt her again."

"You already have!," she shouts, then lowers her voice, "you hurt her. And then, when she was bleeding and crying, you took care of her. You made her believe she needs you."

"Don't make this about Stockholm," he growls, "you know it's not that." Where _are_ they?!

"Even if it's not," she continues, "do you know how hard it is for her? For _me?_ In Philadelphia, I was the one picking of the pieces that _you_ shattered. _Me._ And I can't stand seeing you in her daughter." Their voices get louder, and I realize I'm getting closer.

"She is my daughter, too, Rach-"

"And her running to you makes me sick," she spits, "you are a sick son a bitch, and you don't know the first thing about being a parent. And the second Lindsay does something to piss you off, you will go back to hurting. Because _that's_ who you are."

"Rachel, you have no right-" he's cut off by the sound of skin on skin.

"I have no right?," she asks. I go behind a boiler, and then I see them, "You can't possibly-"

"Rachel?," I ask, looking between her and Bass. What's going on? "What... what are you...?"

"Da-da-da-da," Angela reaches toward her father. Rachel scoffs in disbelief.

"Come here, baby," Bass takes her, and walks away. I look between his retreating figure and Rachel, then hurry after him.

"Bass!," I call. He keeps walking. "Bass, stop!" I run forward and grab his shoulder, and turn him around. "Bass, _talk_ to me! What was _that?"_

"You miss talking to Rachel?," he asks, and points to her, "Go talk to Rachel."

"I'm talking to you," I say firmly. "Bass, what happened?"

"I tried to talk to her," he said, "I tried telling her that you missed her. And she-"

"She said I shouldn't be with you," I say softly, "that she can't bear to be around me when I'm with you."

"You heard?," he asks. I look up, into his eyes.

"I heard enough," I reply.

* * *

**Twelve years before the Blackout**

_"Just jump in, Linds!," Miles calls. _

_"I will," I tell him, looking at the water, "later. When it's not so cold." _

_"It's gonna be cold until you get in and stay in for a while," Ben says. _

_"C'mon, Linds," Bass adds, "you do this every year. You get all scared, and then you-"_

_"I'm not scared," I argue, rolling my eyes, "I just hate the feeling after getting out. You know, when your hair sticks to your back." The three of them stare at me blankly. They're boys, they don't get it._

_"Linds, c'mon," Miles says, "you're gonna go into fifth grade, and be the only person that hasn't swam at all this summer?" _

_"Shut up," I order, annoyed. "Ugh, fine." I put my towel on the beach chair, and slowly lower myself into the cold water. Shivering, I swim over to where the boys are. _

_"See?," Bass asks, "was that so hard?"_

_ "Shut up," I repeat, splashing him._

* * *

"What do you think?," he asks me, as we sit on the wooden steps.

"She's wrong," I say quietly. "Obviously. It's not Stockholm, it's a decision. A conscious decision that I made because I love you."

"Well, how do you tell her that?," he asks.

"You don't," I sigh, "I do." I look out at the sky. It's getting dark. "I've gotta go give Scanlon something." I stand. "Will you put her to bed?," I nod to Angie.

"Yeah, alright," he replies. He kisses my cheek. I stand up and run up to our room to get the book, then walk back down to the med room. Scanlon appears to be sleeping, but I know he's not.

"Scanlon," I call.

"Hey," he opens his eyes. "What's up? Are you ok?"

"Yeah," I sigh, sitting down on his bed, "yeah, I'm ok."

"You left, and were gone for a while."

"I know, I got caught up in... something. Sorry."

"No, it's ok," he says, his flirty nature gone. He looks worried. "You seem upset."

"It's just something I overheard, Scanlon. It's nothing."

"Lindsay..."

"Stop that," I say sharply. "Don't be all sympathetic. Be-be _you._ Be stupid and gross."

"Ok," he says, then chuckles.

"C'mon, you gotta stretch," I say, about to stand.

"I already did them," he says. I relax.

"Oh."

"But apparently, I do need help. I tore my stitches." I pull back his blankets to see blood on his shirt.

"What? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because I don't like the doc, and no one else was around."

"Scanlon-"

"Now, _you,"_ he says, "I'd like you stitch me up very much." I smile and shake my head, threading the needle. I sterilize it and then use some lidocaine to numb the area. He still winces when I pierce the skin though.

"Have you been in much pain?"

"A little," he admits.

"You should've told someone," I reprimand.

_"You_ should be in bed," he says. "You're pretty damn exhausted, I can tell."

"I'm fine," I say, keeping my eyes on his side as I stitch him up. "Stop worrying."

"Fine then," he sighs, "so how long did it take you to get rid of the husband?"

"There he is," I joke, "back to his normal self."

"I'm just saying, Lindsay," he continues, as I finish my sutures, "if you want a quick screw, I need to know you took care of your husband. Don't want him barging in on us, when we're-"

"Excuse me?," a low, dangerous voice says. We both look up to see Bass, standing there, lividly, staring between me and Scanlon.

* * *

_The lifeguard blows her whistle, signalling break. We get out of the pool, and mom hands us our towels. I wrap mine around myself, and sit on the blanket we set out under the big tree in the grass. _

_"Ok, there are sandwiches and Cokes in the basket," she says, "help yourselves. And when you're done, you can all get an ice cream." We all shout out thanks, and start eating, chatting as we do so._

_"Hey, Ben?," I say. He looks up from opening his Coke._

_"Yeah?"_

_"I got an A in math __**and**__ science," I tell him. Report cards came yesterday in the mail._

_"Oh, good for you!," he says, "congratulations."_

_"Well, I just wanted to say thanks," I say, "for helping me with all that homework."_

_"Oh, no problem," he shrugs, "but you can thank me by making sure mom sends me cookies when I'm at science camp next month."_

_"Ok," I chuckle. Bass and Miles go to get their ice cream. Ben joins them after a second, but I continue to finish my sandwich. A shadow goes over me and I look up. "Hi," I say in surprise, as I see Mark Shephard, a boy in my grade, stand above me. _

_"Hey," he says. _

_"Um," I tuck a strand of wet hair behind my ear, feeling awkward. I've had a crush on him since second grade. "What's up?"_

_"I found a flower," he says casually. "And it was pretty. And I thought of you," he adds quickly, "Be-because girls like pretty things. So here." I smile widely. This is so cool! I reach up to take it. _

_"Thank you," I reply._

_"Yeah, well, I don't like pretty things," he mutters. "See you in school," he says, then walks away quickly. I look after him in amazement._

_"Who was that?," Miles asks, sitting down with his ice cream._

_"A boy from school," I reply, twirling my flower around._

_"Isn't that Mark Shepherd?," Bass asks._

_"Yup," I murmur._

_"What did he want?"_

_"To give me this," I hold up my flower._

_"What? Why?"_

_"Because he think I'm pretty," I gloat._

_"Wait," Bass puts his hands up, "didn't he brutally reject your valentine a couple years ago."_

_"People change, Bass."_

_"Well, he was so rude to you," he insists, "now, he waltzes in here-"_

_"Bass, stop being jealous," Miles rolls his eyes._

_"I'm not!," he says, and turns red, "I'm just saying that she deserves better than him."_

_"Better how?," I ask._

_"Like, someone who's nice to you," he says, looking at me intensely. What is he saying? I look away as Ben sits down._

_"What are you guys talking about?," he asks._

_ "Nothing," Bass, Miles, and I all say at the same time, and go about our lunch._

* * *

"Bass, he didn't-"

_"What_ did you just say to her?," Bass asks, walking closer to me.

"He wasn't serious," I say quickly. But he looks angrily at Scanlon. It's scary. "Bass, he was _joking!"_

"Were you propositioning my _wife?,"_ he demands.

"Bass-," I start, but he grabs my arm and jerks me off of Scanlon's bed, and pushes me behind him, "Bass, what the- get _off_ of me! _Bass!"_

"Ok, just calm down, general-"

"What the hell is going on?," he demands. Scanlon just kind of looks at me, almost smiling. He _still_ thinks it's funny! Bass notices, and looks back at me, "Wait. Are-are you _sleeping_ with him?"

"What?," I ask in shock.

"You're cheating on me? With _him?"_

"No! Bass, I would _never-"_

"How long have you been screwing him behind my back?"

"I'm not!," I insist, "Bass, I swear, I would never cheat on you. Scanlon just-"

"So you just continue to harass her?," he says to Scanlon.

"He's joking!," I nearly shout in exasperation. Everyone is staring at us now. Some people have even come in from the main room to see what's up. "He does it _literally_ every day. And you can ask anyone in this damn building, they'll tell you."

"Why don't _I_ know?"

"Because I knew you'd act exactly like you are now," I reply. He looks angry, and doubtful, and looks around at everyone. I put his hands on my waist, the way he likes to do, and hold them there. "Bass, c'mon," I plead, "you know me. I'm your wife. I love you, I'd never cheat on you." He keeps looking over my shoulder at Scanlon. "Bass. Bass, look at me. Bass- _hey!"_ He finally looks at me, and I search his eyes, "Why don't you believe me?" He looks back for a second, then breaks away from me, and storms in the other direction. "Bass!" I watch him walk away.

"Lindsay?," Scanlon calls. "I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"I _told_ you!," I say, turning, tears streaming from my face. "I told you to cut it out! I told you he'd get angry!"

"I'm sorry, Lindsay," he says quietly. I start backing up.

"Just... don't move, and don't-don't," I stutter, shaking my head, at a loss for words, "don't tear your stitches." I turn around, and hurry out of the room. Just as I get into the main room, someone catches me around my waist. I look up.

"Let him cool off," Miles says softly.

"Miles, no," I argue, trying to get away from him, "I have to talk to him."

"Just let him cool off first," he insists, "I don't want you near him when he's that angry."

"He's my _husband,_ Miles. And he thinks-"

"I know what he thinks," he interrupts, "and I don't care who he is. He's angry. When people are angry, they get violent. And besides, you're noticeably exhausted. You've been running around all day the past week, stitching, cooking, chasing after Angie, all that doctoring... you've gotta sleep."

"I will," I promise, "after I talk to him."

_"Before,"_ he commands. "Go upstairs, go to sleep, bicker with him in the morning." I contemplate it for a while.

"Don't let him get drunk," I say finally, "and-and Scanlon will want to talk to him, so, um, don't let him. Make sure he stays in bed. And have Gene look over his stitches, just in case. And, uh, tell Rachel-"

"Lindsay," he interrupts, "go to bed. I'll take care of it. Go sleep." I nod, and start up the steps. I pause at the top to tell him to make _sure_ Scanlon doesn't tear his stitches. Because Bass won't let me come down in the middle of the night to stitch _Scanlon _back up. I look down. "Miles-"

"Go," he points to my bedroom door. I sniff, wipe tears off my cheeks, and walk in there. I make sure Angie is breathing ok, then take off my jacket, t-shirt, and jeans, then my boots and socks, so I'm just wearing my tank top, and underwear. I get into bed, and pull the blanket up to my chin. If I wasn't so 'noticeably exhausted', I don't think I would've fallen asleep.

...

I feel something brush my cheek, and I open my eyes quickly. I half expect to see Edward Truman next to me, ready to grab me and jump on top of me. But I don't see that. I see Bass, his hand in my peripheral, moving my hair behind my ear.

"Hey," I murmur to him. He just looks at my face thoughtfully, his blue eyes brooding, but glowing in the darkness. His hand runs up and down my side, under my tank top.

"Hey," he says, finally. He looks slightly sweaty. Or like he was sweating.

"Are you drunk?," I ask, searching his eyes.

"No," he replies.

"Do you want to talk?," I ask. His hand stops moving, and he pulls it off my skin. He's quiet for a really long time. The silence is baffling. I hate it. I want him to say something. Even if he says I'm disgusting for openly letting another man flirt with me. Or if he says he thinks I'm a whore who had an affair and he wants nothing to do with me. At least then I would know what he's thinking. I could work the problem out. Now, I think he's just silently hating me. Bottling it all in until he gets angry enough to hit me, or worse.

"Did you ever sleep w-" he sighs, _"consider_ sleeping with him?," he asks, finally, surprising me.

"No, Bass," I whisper. "No, he was just flirting."

"Not him," he says quietly, "Jeremy."

"What?," I ask, my eyes widening, "Bass, why would you ask about him?"

"I was just...," he sighs, "I was just thinking that I knew that Scanlon was joking because he didn't look at you that way. And all I could think of was he didn't look at you like Jeremy did. I saw, Lindsay, I saw how he looked at you. I know he had feelings for you. And I sent him in to torture you, and... you had every right to want comfort from someone else. And I just want to know. Did you ever consider sleeping with him?"

"No," I whisper, "I never did."

"Ok," he murmurs, then nods. "I know it's none of my business, Linds, and I'm sorry. But I've gotta know. Have you ever slept with anyone but me?"

"No," I whisper, then shake my head, "why are you asking me all this?"

"I just needed to know," he says, and looks up at the ceiling.

"Bass," I whisper, "I love you. I would never-"

"I don't think you slept with him," he interrupts, "and I'm not gonna make you stop seeing him or anything. But he can't do that. He can't flirt with you."

"Bass-"

"The last man I saw talk to you like that," he says, "like he wanted you in his bed? Was Edward Truman. And then I watched him take off your clothes, and _sit_ on top of you, and kiss you, and touch-"

"Bass, please," I whisper. He's not supposed to talk about that. No one is. We're supposed to forget.

"And I couldn't do anything," he whispers, "I can't have another man talk to you like that."

"Scanlon would never hurt me," I assure him, "he's my friend. He's... he's my _best_ friend. Please, believe me."

"I do believe you," he whispers, "I just don't want you to be pressured or forced to do anything you don't want to do. Not again."

"I won't be," I promise, "I have you. You're all I need." He just smiles. A little twitch of his mouth.

"Yeah, let me hear you say that twice in a row," he chuckles. I smile, and prop myself up, and kiss him. I move my lips down to his neck, his chest, then his stomach. "Oh, God," he says, as I continue to kiss his stomach. I pull away and lay back down.

"I can't wait to have that red house," I sigh.

"Yeah, why's that?," he asks.

"So the baby will have her own room," I chuckle, "and we can have sex. On a bed."

He chuckles, "Well, it's no bed," he murmurs, "but tomorrow, we'll go on a walk. Just you, me, a blanket, a basket of food, and a bottle of wine."

"I don't drink," I remind him.

"Oh, well, way to kill the romance," he chuckles. I don't laugh. He knows why I don't drink. It's because of him. And what I've seen alcohol turn him into.

"I don't want you to drink either," I say, looking at him.

"Then we'll drink water," he says, "in fancy glasses."

"Yeah, where are you going to get those?"

"I'll figure something out," he says.

"Don't kill yourself doing it," I say calmly. I turn over and lay my head on his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too," he murmurs, kissing my head. "I'm sorry for freaking out. _And_ for scaring you."

"I forgive you," I say softly. "Just stop getting so jealous."


	4. Oh, What a Day

I keep my eyes on my hands as I put cheese, and apples, and bread, and other stuff we stole from the Patriots supply stores into a basket. I cover it with a cloth so bugs don't get into it.

Bass is behind me, with Angela. Miles and Rachel are going to take care of her today. Bass asked him. I haven't gotten up the nerve to talk to Rachel yet.

"Hey," he calls.

"Yeah?," I ask, staring at the counter.

"I went down to see Gene this morning," he says, "and he said Scanlon was asking for you. Something about stretches."

"Oh, yeah," I shrug, "I promised him I'd help him stretch. But Gene can do it. I don't-"

"Lindsay," he says, and walks up behind me. I look over my shoulder to see he's put Angie down. He puts his hands on my hips, and murmurs into my ear, "Don't do that. I told you, I believe you. And I don't want you to lose your friend because of me."

"Today is about us," I reply firmly. The truth is, it'll be awkward. I yelled at him. And he's probably going to apologize a lot.

"You made a promise," he insists, "go keep it. Go ahead. I've gotta pass Angie off to Miles anyway, and that'll take a while." I chuckle softly, and nod.

"Thank you," I murmur, kissing him. I go over and say goodbye to the baby, then look up. "Bass?"

"Yeah?"

"Bring the wine," I say, with a small smile. He just smiles and nods, while I go down to the medical room. As soon as I walk in, People look at me, then look at Scanlon. But I ignore them, putting my hair into a braid to keep it out of the way. Scanlon is talking to Vincent, but he catches sight of me as I get closer.

"See you later, man," he says. Vincent smiles at me, then walks out. Scanlon looks up at me. "Hey."

"We have to do your stretches," I say, the words flying out of my mouth.

"Oh, no," he says, "you don't have to do that. The doc can, or Rachel."

"Scanlon, I said I'd do them," I insist, "stand up so I can do them." He stands up, and looks me in the eye.

"I am sorry, Lindsay," he says.

"It's ok," I murmur. He stands in front of me. I gently pick up his arm and extend it, then take his other and put it in position to stretch, all the while feeling the muscles near the wound. Scanlon doesn't look it, but he is very well built.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, of course not."

"Did he yell?"

"No," I snap, "switch sides." He does. I try to ignore him. But he's my friend and I want to talk about it. "He doesn't think we slept together and he actually pushed me to come and help you."

"So, I don't have to sleep with one eye open?"

"No," I chuckle, "He just doesn't like people talking to me like that because of... well, you know."

"Because of Truman," he finishes. I inhale somewhat sharply, but nod.

"Yeah," I mutter. I go around to the back, and feel it as he stretches more. "He just wants you to stop flirting."

"Well, that's not gonna happen," he snorts, "you're too gorgeous, I can't resist." I freeze at that. Those words are familiar. Way too familiar. I hear them echo around my head. First, in Scanlon's voice. Then, in Truman's, as I had dreamed not too long ago. And finally, from Bass, who said them first. It comes back in flashes. The door slams behind me. Bass comes forward. He tells me to take my clothes off. I say no. A fist hits my face. Another command. Another fist. Hands hit my skin as he takes my clothes off. Another fist. I'm crying. I'm bleeding. Bruises form. Screams echo. He shouts into my ear to shut up. I ask him why. Why is he doing this? More blows. His clothes are off now. _Why?!_ He whispers something into my ear, while holding me down. _You're too gorgeous. I can't resist._

I scream. It happened so fast.

"Lindsay?," Scanlon looks behind him. I back up, right into the side table, knocking over the water pitcher, glass, and other various things. "Lindsay, oh, my God!" He bends down to help me up.

"I'm fine," I assure him, "stop! You're gonna tear...," I stop, because he's already got me sitting on his bed. He sits next to me.

"What happened?"

"I just fell," I lie.

"You screamed."

"Because I was falling."

"You tensed up, stopped moving, screamed, _then_ fell," he accuses. "What happened?"

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"I just," I start, then groan, "you said something that triggered a memory, and I..."

"You flashed back."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Come here," he says softly. I lay my head on his shoulder and he puts an arm around mine. "You're a mess, you know that?"

"You're a jerk," I reply. He chuckles.

"How are we friends?"

"I don't know," I shake my head, and stand up. "I've got to go. Bass is waiting, and, oh God, now I've got to change."

"Where are you going?"

"Picnic," I reply.

"Sounds fun," he quips, "bring me back some potato salad."

"Sorry, the Patriots were fresh out."

"Aw, shucks," he says, in a cheesy voice, snapping as if in an old movie.

"You're an idiot," I point out with a chuckle. "Don't tear your stitches."

"Don't pass out," he says back, as I walk away.

"I'll try," I call, walking out. I look down at my shirt as I go into the main room. It's wet on the back. I sigh, and start to go upstairs and change.

"Linds?," Miles calls, catching sight of me.

"Hey," I pause on the steps.

"What happened?"

"Oh," I look down, then at him, "nothing. I tripped. I'm fine."

"Lindsay-"

"Where's Angela?"

"Rachel's got her," he says, nodding to the the door, where I can see Rachel play with her outside.

"Ok," I nod, and hurry upstairs before he can say anything else. I take off my shirt, and dig through the dresser, looking for something. I decide just a tank and a jacket or a tee will do. Until I look out the window, and see Bass waiting by a horse. He's still got the beard (because I like it better), but it's not as scruffy. He's wearing a black button up shirt, and actually clean jeans. He actually dressed up?

I smile, a soft breath of a chuckle coming out as I do so. He hates doing that. He wears jackets and tees or whatever he finds. And he'll wear dirty jeans for weeks. I go to the dresser, and open the drawer I haven't in a while. There is one thing in there: a dark blue, deep V-neck dress. Rachel gave it to me, the day I came to Willoughby. Obviously, I shouldn't have taken it with me. But when Rachel asked if there was anything I wanted from Gene's house, I mumbled something about that dress. It was so pretty, and after the whole Truman episode... I needed something pretty.

So, now, I slip it on. I tighten the waist to fit me, as I've lost weight since I left Jasper. Then, I find the chipped mirror, and look at myself. I pin the sides of ny hair back, and smile. I look pretty. I actually _feel_ pretty. I mean, people have told me I'm pretty. Scanlon just did. But when people call you pretty, then abuse you or try to, you don't feel very pretty.

* * *

**Eight years before the Blackout**

_"You look beautiful," mom whispers, as I come down the steps in my Spring Formal dress. "Oh, my gosh, you look so grown up. Like you're off to prom, not eight grade formal!"_

_"Mom," I mumble._

_"What's wrong?," she asks. _

_"Nothing," I groan, wishing she would drop it._

_"Lindsay, sweetie, you look gorgeous," she says, "why are you so upset?"_

_"I don't look gorgeous," I argue, "if I looked gorgeous, someone would've asked me to the stupid dance."_

_"Oh, boy," dad says. _

_"I'll take care of it," mom assures him. She leads me into the kitchen and we sit down at the table. "Lindsay, someone did. Bass."_

_"Oh, please," I snap, "he only asked me because he pitied me because no asked."_

_"Lindsay, that's not true."_

_"Yeah, because my brother's best friend wants to take me."_

_"He asked you two weeks after he knew about it," she says, "if what you're saying was true, he would've waited until the absolute last minute. And besides, when they see how beautiful you look when you're not stuffed into a book, all the boys will wish they had asked you." _

_"Thanks, mom," I give a small smile. _

_ "Of course," she grins, and kisses my cheek. The doorbell rings. "That must be Bass."_

* * *

I check on Rachel, Miles, and the baby one more time before going around the building to meet Bass. He doesn't notice me at first. He's very distracted, striking the horses mane. Why I feel nervous, I have no idea. Maybe it's because the last time he saw me in a dress, it was at our wedding. And the last time he saw me in any sort of casual dress, it was in Philly. Oh, no. What if I'm triggering myself? I play with my clock necklace to calm myself down. I look down at my wedding ring to remind myself that he's Bass. Not General Monroe. He's my husband. Not my captor.

"Hey," I call. He looks up, then smiles widely.

"You look amazing," he says softly. I walk over to him, and look down at my feet, then give a small chuckle.

"I didn't have any other shoes," I say, stretching on my toes once before going back down. "So, I had to wear my boots, and it probably throws it all off, but-"

"Hey," he interrupts, moving my hair behind my ear. He leaves his hand on my cheek. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," I smile.

"You're welcome," he nods. Then he climbs the horse, and extends his hand. "Shall we?" I laugh, and let him pull me up. "Think you can still ride with a dress?"

"I'll manage," I tease, wrapping my arms around his waist.

...

"Ok, so," Bass announces as he lifts me off of the horse. "It's not perfect, but it's quiet, and-"

"It is," I argue, "perfect." It really is. It's by a stream, the water is quiet. There's a light breeze, just strong enough to make the leaves rustle on the trees that stand around the clearing like guards of a massive room. And the grass is so green!

"Well, good," he smiles. "Now, you just wait there. I will take care of everything." He gets the basket and blanket and walks away. I watch him set it up as I pet the horse. I realize she'll need to be tied up, so I lead her toward the trees, and loop the rope around it, before knotting it together. Then I walk back to Bass. "You were supposed to let me do the work."

"And let the horse run off?," I ask, "So we'd have to walk home? No thank you." He smiles. "What?"

"You called it home," he points out. I laugh once and look away. "C'mon, sit down." I go over to the blanket and sit down, my dress spreading out around me. He opens the basket and pulls out a bottle of wine, and two glasses.

"Wha- Bass," I ask, looking at them, "how?"

He chuckles. "Your brother," he starts, pouring the dark red wine, "found a supply unit in Willoughby. The place used to be some wine shop. It wasn't whiskey, but he, being Miles, thought: alcohol is alcohol. So he grabbed two boxes. One of them was a box of glasses. But," he hands one to me, "it turned out not to be a total loss." I look down at it, watching the ripples. "What is it?"

"This'll be the first alcohol I've had in four- nearly five- years," I reply, slowly, "the last drink I had was the night before... Miles... left."

"Lindsay," he says, bringing his away from his mouth, "if you don't want to... we don't have to." I just keep staring at my drink. Drinking this, with him, is almost symbolic, though, isn't it? It's basically saying I trust you enough to drink with you. I trust that you won't get drunk and hurt me. So, I bring the glass up to my lips, and take a sip of the first alcohol I've had in five years.

* * *

_"You want to dance, Linds?," Bass asks, as a slower song starts playing. _

_"You want to?," I ask, looking over at him. _

_"Well, yeah," he says. "I'm your date, right?"_

_"Oh, right," I sigh. We stand up and start dancing. I don't know how to dance, actually. But he seems to. He wraps his arm around my waist, and puts my hands where they should go. "You don't have to do this," I say softly._

_"Do what?"_

_"Any of this," I reply, "be my date, dance with me, any of this. We can leave early, if you want."_

_"You think I don't want to be here with you?"_

_"Oh, c'mon, Bass," I scoff, "of course you don't. You're my brother's best friend, you're in tenth grade, nearly three years older than me. Don't tell me you're actually having fun."_

_"Well...," now he seems uncomfortable, "are you... having fun?"_

_I sigh, "Not really."_

_"Maybe if you did, then I would," he comments. "Lindsay, I'm not here on a pity date. When I asked you, it was because I-" the song stops and we break away. I just stare up at him. What was he going to say? But he looks... awkward almost. "Yeah, maybe we should leave."_

_"Bass, what were you..."_

_"We should just go, Lindsay," he says, and gets my jacket. "C'mon. Before the traffic gets bad."_

* * *

I sip some more wine, then look at the bread in the basket.

"Do you want me to cut that?," I ask, nodding to it. He smiles.

"I've got it," he picks it up and slices some off. He hands it to me. I take a bite, but he doesn't cut some for himself.

"Don't you want any?"

"I'm not hungry," he says quietly, laying down, propped up on his elbow. I finish the bread, then look at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugs, "you're just look so beautiful. The sun, on your hair... it's gorgeous."

"You just want to have sex, don't you?," I chuckle.

"Yeah," he laughs, "yes, I do." I sip more wine, and, then put it to the side, crawling over to him. He smiles, and rolls over onto his back. I straddle hos waist and start unbuttoning his shirt. But as soon as I get that done, he rolls, so he's on top of me, and then we start kissing. He plucks the tie on the waist of my dress. He kisses my neck, and moves back the shoulder of my dress to kiss the skin there. At the same time, I work on unbeckling his belt. I can feel the blanket sliding underneath my back as my dress gets pushed farther down.

"This is awkward," a voice says in amusement. Bass and I both gasp and look up, to see a man, with a gun, in a khaki uniform, with an American flag on the sleeve. Oh, my God. "I mean, really, I'm embarrassed." Bass just reaches for his gun, in the basket. "Nope. Touch it and she's dead." I hear a gun cock in my right ear. I look over to see a man holding a rifle, two inches from my head. I let out a soft scream.

"Ok, alright," Bass says, getting off of me and sitting up, arms raised, "Alright, I give up. See? Surrender. Take the gun off her."

"Get dressed, Monroe," the soldier says, gesturing to his shirt on the ground with the gun. Bass nods, and holds out his hand for me. I take it and start to pull myself up, but the soldier snaps, "I didn't say for her to move." Bass glares at him. My eyes are wide. I can't even process what's happening right now. Then, slowly, it dawns on me that my dress is still partly off. I feel colour rush to my cheeks as I hold it up over my chest. After Bass' shirt is on and buttoned, and his belt buckled, the soldier gestures to me. "Put it on, sweetheart." I sit up, and pull my dress back to where it should be, without exposing anything. "Stand up." Bass and I slowly get to our feet.

The man whistles, nodding to the man behind me. I gasp as I feel the barrel of the gun jab into my back, making me arch it a little. Bass goes forward, but the soldier just gives him a look. He settles, but glares. The soldier approaches me.

"So... Lindsay...," he says slowly, "my God, it's been over a year since I've seen you. Remember? When that Neville guy gave you up?" I shiver as he stops in front of me, way too close.

"Back up," I order, my voice shaking. He chuckles, and gets even closer, to whisper in my ear. I try to back up, but the gun is still there.

"How's Truman's baby?," he whispers. I gasp. "Is it doing well, without its father? Who your boyfriend shot in cold blood?"

"Husband," I say, and push him away. The soldier behind me uses the butt of his gun to push me onto my knees. I cry out in pain.

"What?," the first asks.

"He's not my boyfriend," I say, glancing at Bass, "he's my husband."

"Well," he chuckles. Then, he takes his gun and bashes it into Bass' head.

"No!," I scream, but it's too late. He drops, passed out.

"Your story just keeps getting more interesting," he continues. Then, he kneels down, and grabs my chin. "Lindsay Monroe, huh? I liked Lindsay Truman better." He raises the butt of his gun. I put up my hands and scream. I feel pain on my head. Then everything goes black.


	5. Here We Go Again

**Eight years before the Blackout**

_I pour the cereal into my bowl, then add the milk. Sitting at the kitchen table as I begin eating, I glance at myself in the reflective microwave. Today is my first day of high school. Yeah, I'm nervous. Reading Perks of Being a Wallflower over the summer didn't really help. But Miles and Bass have assured me that it's not as bad as I think. They should know, they're juniors today. _

_"Hey," Miles says, coming down the steps. He grabs the cereal I left out. "You riding with me and Bass?"_

_"Wha- can I?," I ask. _

_"Don't see why not," he replies, mouth full. He doesn't even eat it in a bowl, with a spoon, or milk. He just reaches in and eats some. "We're all going to the same place." _

_"Oh," I say, in surprise, "well, thanks."_

_"No problem," he says, "now Ben, next year? No way. The truck is full."_

_"I don't know that we could handle all his science talk."_

_"Ha," he chuckles, "true. You ready?"_

_"Uh, yeah, I guess," I shrug, putting my bowl in the sink. _

_"K. C'mon," he says. We grab our backpacks and get into his truck. He turns on some music, and taps the steering wheel as he drives. "Are you still nervous?"_

_"Um," I run a hand through my hair, "yeah. I am, a little bit."_

_"Don't be," he shrugs, "High school is just... middle school with more classes. Freshman year is easy." We drive for a bit, and then he stops in front of Bass' house. He honks the horn. After waiting a good thirty seconds, he honks it again. "Dammit, Bass. Bass! B- oh, God. Linds, will you- oh, wait, here he comes." Bass jogs out of his house, his backpack hanging from his shoulder, his hood up. _

_"I'm coming Miles, damn," he says, jerking open the door. I slide into the middle seat so he can get in. "For fu- hey, look who's here!" _

_"Hey, Bass," I greet, then tease, "for what? What were you going to say there?"_

_"Uh," he chuckles, "yeah, sorry." He pushes his hood down. "I'm just irritated." He yawns. _

_"Rough morning?"_

_"Mm," he remarks, as the yawn subsides, "you could say that."_

_"They fighting again?," Miles asks. "Your folks?"_

_"Yep," he sighs, "I'm just glad the bus already picked up the girls. They don't need to be hearing their crap all the time. Especially Angela. Dear God, she's-she's nine years old, you know? I just... ugh, at this point, I wish they'd just divorce and get it over with."_

_"C'mon, man, you don't mean that," Miles says._

_"Yeah, I do," Bass says, "shouting and fighting all the time in front of the girls. It's ridiculous." _

_"Well," I say, attempting to comfort him, "it might get better."_

_"Sure, yeah," he snorts, "fingers crossed." Miles parks in front of the school _

_"Yay, school," he says sarcastically. _

_"Yay...," I say feebly. _

_"Hey," Bass nudges me as Miles gets out, "you'll be fine. You'll do great."_

_"Yeah? How do you know?"_

_ "Because I know you," he says, and gets out. I follow him, and he shuts the door. "You'll be fine."_

* * *

I open my eyes, and at first don't move. I take in my surroundings. I'm laying on my back, on a cold, stone floor. I'm still in the dark blue dress. I look to the side, and see bars. Rows and rows and rows of bars. I squint and realize that it's just several cells. I sit up. The second I do, I have a splitting headache. I moan a little and grab it. Then I look around some more. The cold stone floor I'm on is just one cell. It seems to be a perfect square. It's squat, I can't stand, for sure. There seems to be three of them. I'm in the one against the wall. What happened?

Bass and I were having a picnic. We were drinking wine. Then we started getting intimate. Soldiers showed up. Oh! Oh, God, no! No! No! No! No! Where's Bass?!

"Bass?," I call hoarsely. "Bass!"

"Lindsay! Oh, God, Lindsay!"

"Where are you?"

"I'm here, baby, look to your left."

"I-I can't... it's so dark, I can't see..."

"I know, it takes some getting used to. Come on, Lindsay, I'm right here." I squint in the dark, and then see his blue eyes, glowing. The rest of him becomes visible too. He's in the cell against the wall too. Except it's not the same one as me. There's a whole cell between us.

"Bass," I whisper, "where are we?"

"It's... hard to tell," he sighs, "I'm not sure. I think... I think we're in Willoughby. I could be wrong, it's so dark... but I think we're in the same place they held me before they killed me."

"Oh," is all I can say. I'm freaking out! Truman is dead, yes. That makes it a bit better. But what are they going to do to me? To Bass?

"Linds, hey, look at me," he says. I manage to. "They're going to want to know where our group is. Where our hideout is, you understand?" I nod, but then realize he probably couldn't see it.

"Yes."

"Ok. I don't know what they're going to do. But listen- Linds- listen," he raises his voice. I'm hyperventilating now. He lowers it, "Jason is coming back today. They can-" he's interrupted by the door banging open. Almost as if by relfex, I scramble back, against the wall. Bass just keeps his composure, sitting with one leg out and one propped up, his arm resting on his knee. Well, I already look weak. Damn it. But maybe they can't see me. The door shuts, and then someone lights a candle. They use it to illuminate several lanterns around the room. I look up into the man's face as he shakes the match to extinguish it.

He's kind of short, with gray hair and eyes that look like they were once kind, but now are just cold. He's wearing a dark gray suit, well pressed. On it, is a little pin of the American flag. Everything this man does communicates authority.

His eyes flick from me to Bass in amusement and curiosity. I try to keep my composure, like Bass does, and just stare up at him coolly, waiting for him to speak. Then I look over at Bass. I see him shift uncomfortably and glare. I don't know why. Then, when I look forward, I understand. The man has walked across the room to stand in front of my cage. He studies me for a while, and I do the same to him.

"Miss Matheson," he acknowledges, "or may I just call you Lindsay?"

"You may not, actually," I reply, in a strong voice. "And it's actually _Mrs._ now," I look over at Bass, and smile before looking back at the man. "Mrs. Monroe."

"Yes, they told me you'd married him," he says, "but let's be honest. There's no legality to that title. I'll go ahead and call you Miss Matheson."

"And what do I call you?," I ask casually.

"Doyle," he says, sticking his hand through the bars, "Victor Doyle." I look over at Bass. He just blinks to confirm what I'd been thinking. Doyle was the man who married Jason's mother, then captured her. "Do you have to ask his permission to shake my hand?"

"No, but I'm not going to."

He chuckles, then takes out a thin stick, like a teacher's pointer and hits the bars, hard. I jump slightly at the loud noise, and reverberation, but it seems like that was just a signal. Two men come in the door, in Patriot uniform. One of them has keys.

"This is really quite simple, Miss Matheson," he says. I don't look at him, but rather keep my concentration on the two men that are standing in front of Bass' cage. "If you don't tell me what I want to know, or do what I want done, I will hurt him." I look back to Doyle, emotionless. "So, I'm going to open this cage, and how about the three of us take a walk?" I look over at Bass again, then nod.

"Alright."

"Good," Doyle smiles. He unlocks my cage, but I don't get out until they take Bass out of his. I realize I'll have to crawl out of the cell. Doyle knows it to. His eyes are already on my chest. I pull my dress up to cover it as best as I can, then crawl out. Doyle grabs my upper arm and shuts the door. I refuse to move until Bass is right behind me, and then I let Doyle start leading us somewhere. I jump as I feel something slip into my hand. But, glancing over my shoulder, I see it's Bass' hand. He nods to me. I smile back. Then they jerk his arm away and the reassuring squeeze is gone.

We round a corner, and I take in the place. It doesn't seem to be some sort of prison. There are many pictures of mayors, and other government positioned people on the walls. I think it's the courthouse. Doyle stops at a greenish coloured door, and unlocks it. Then he brings us in.

It looks like it used to be an office. There's a large, dark wooded desk, with a large, green armchair pulled in front of it. Two wooden chairs are before it. There's bookshelves too, and a couch. Doyle nods to chairs and lets go of me. I just stay still, until I hear an "unh!" behind me. I look back as see Bass on the ground, holding his stomach. I look away, and sit in one of the chairs. The two men bring Bass over and push him into the other chair. They tie us both up, then seat themselves on the couch.

"Would you like some tea, Miss Matheson?," Doyle asks, pouring some into two cups. He takes the first and sips some.

"No, I'm fine, thank you," I say coolly. But Doyle won't take no for an answer

"Please," he insists, "let me be a gracious host." He brings the second teacup over to me. I just stare up at him, not quite glaring, but close. Then I let out a sort of shriek as he grabs my jaw and holds it down.

"Hey!," Bass calls. I try to close my mouth, but he keeps it open, and pours some steaming tea into my mouth. The feeling of it burning my tongue, then my throat, makes my eyes water. I start choking as he drains the cup into my mouth. "Stop! You're choking her, _stop!"_ I can't breathe! My head is swirling.Finally the cup is removed, and I manage to swallow all of the burning liquid. Doyle lets go of my chin, and I turn my head, coughing, and trying to stop the tears. But after he puts the cup down, he picks my face up with his hand and turns it up towards him.

"You know," he starts, "a lady would have accepted the drink. And if you're not a lady, maybe you don't deserve to wear the dress." He slips his finger under the shoulder of it, and plucks it, making it slip off, and hang there.

"I swear to God, if you touch her," Bass snarls. Doyle nods to the men on the couch, and one punches Bass in the stomach, hard. He doubles over as much as he can.

"Stop!," I scream, my throat still hurting.

"Let's start, then, shall we?," Doyle asks, and seats himself, "we'll start with some simple questions. Where is your camp?" I just glare a little at him. He nods, and Bass gets another punch, this time to the face. I close my eyes and look away. "Miss Matheson, you are going to tell me." I just keep looking away. He grabs my face and makes me look at them hit Bass over and over again.

"Stop, please!," I beg, "Please, please, stop!"

"Then tell me what I want to know."

"I can't," I whimper. The hit him some more, and I can't take it. What was it he almost said? Jason is coming back, they can... can what? Get out? Go to another safe house? Bass' face is bleeding so much... "Stop! Stop hitting him! I'll-"

"Lindsay," Bass croaks, the second they stop. His lip is bleeding, but he manages to talk, "Don't."

"I can't," I whisper. "I can't watch you get hurt, Bass. I have to-"

"What about her?," he asks. I start to say something, "Lindsay, think about her!" Doyle raises his stick thing and slams it into his face.

"Doyle, please! Our group is-"

"Angela, Lindsay!," Bass shouts, "Think about _Angela!"_

"Who's Angela?," Doyle asks. I look down, wishing I could wipe my eyes. "Who is she?!" I just shake my head, and he figures it out, "Oh... she's your daughter, isn't she? Truman's kid?"

"She's not Truman's," I snap, looking up, "She's Bass'"

"We all know that's a lie, Miss Matheson," he says nonchalantly. "Either way, you both seem to love her. Oh, wait. Does he _actually_ believe she's his?"

"I don't have to prove anything to you."

"No, you don't," he says, settling back, "Well, how about this? You tell me where they all are, and I won't hurt her." I just scoff. Does he really think I'll believe him? "Really? You're not taking that? My God, Lindsay. What kind of a mother are you?"

"You would kill her," I spit, crying, "You would kill my infant daughter as quick as you'd kill the rest of my family, you son of a _bitch!"_

"So she does have a temper," Doyle chuckles. "Take them back, we'll pick this up in the morning." He goes back to his desk, and looks through some papers. One of the soldiers grabs my arm, one of them grabs Bass'. They march us back to the room with our cages, and the one with Bass starts to seperate.

"Wait!," I call desperately. "The same cell. _Please._ Put us in the same cell." My guard smiles at Bass'. I notice he has very white teeth. My eyes flick down to his name on his uniform: Keamy. He's very muscular. He leans down to get in my ear, but I know Bass can hear too.

"You guys wanna bang?," he asks me. He bites down on his lower lip and smiles, raising his eyebrows. I realize he reminds me of someone. That only makes me shift away from him more. But he pulls me closer to him, and then places my back against the wall.

"Oh!," I shout in both surprise and from the air whooshing out of my lungs.

"Don't you dare," Bass shouts, trying to get away. "Don't you dare touch her!" Keamy puts on hand on my hip, pushing me further into the wall. His other hand runs up and down the outside of my thigh. I gasp as he grabs my ass.

"And, uh, what are you gonna for _me,"_ he says, in a low voice, "if I make that happen?"

"I swear to God, if you touch her-"

"Keep him quiet!," Keamy shouts, in my face, "I wanna hear this answer."

"Get... the _hell..._ off of me," I whisper dangerously. He just chuckles.

"Actually, I'm, uh, I'm good h-" he stops, because I knee him in the gut, and grab his gun off its holster. I point it at him while he's still doubled over.

"Drop it," Bass' guard commands. I look over to see his gun pressed against Bass' temple.

"Linds, shoot his brains out," Bass says.

"Right, she does that, I'll kill you."

"They're not gonna kill-"

"You know I will, Monroe."

"If they were gonna kill me, I'd be dead already, Linds. Just kill- watch out!" I look down but it's too late. Keamy grabs his gun, and my arm and twists it. I shout out in pain, as he slams my face against the bars, holding my arm behind my back. He steps so he's pressed against me. I whimper a little. But all he does is unlocks the cage door.

"Put them both in," he says, "and get her some new clothes." He shoves me in so hard, that I stumble forward and fall. Bass comes after me, wincing. "Doyle's right. She doesn't deserve that dress." I look at him incredulously. Not giving him sexual favors makes me unworthy of being a lady? How the hell does _that_ make sense?

Keamy stands by the door as a guard, and his buddy walks out. Bass turns to me.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," I assure him, moving towards the back, so I can lean against the wall. "Ok, um, take off your shirt."

"What? Why?"

"Because they punched you a ton of times," I reply. "I need to-to look at the damage, and..."

"Lindsay, look at me," he says softly. But I don't. "Linds, c'mon." I shake my head. He tilts it up, but I pull away. "Why won't you look at me?"

"Because I don't want to see you," I whisper. "You're bloody and bruised and you don't look like you and-and it's my fault and-"

"Hey," he interrupts, "it is not your fault. Look at me, please." I finally do. It's not as bad as I expecte, but still bad. He has a thin trickle of blood stemming from his forehead. There are bruises on his left eye. But he still looks like himself. "It's not your fault. There's nothing you could've done."

"I could've told them-"

"Where our daughter is? You couldn't have told them that, Lindsay. Come here." He opens his arms, but I shake my head.

"I need to look at your stomach," I insist.

"Oh, G... Lindsay, I'm fine. I've had worse."

"My God, you're worse than Scanlon," I scoff.

"No, but really, I have."

"Yeah, I know, but-"

"Let's see, there was Trenton," he starts.

"Do not detail your worst moments to-"

"Toledo, Baltimore, Boston-"

"Bass, you've made your point-"

"Uh, _Mexico-"_

"We don't talk about Mexico!," I cut him off sharply.

"Ok, sorry," he says, "I'm just saying: I've had worse, so stop getting so emotional. You don't even had anything to fix me with. So just lay down and, dammit, Lindsay, go to sleep."

"I'm not tired," I argue.

"Don't give me that crap," he rolls his eyes. "Ok, would a story put you to sleep?"

"Bass, really?"

"Once upon a time," he starts.

"Are you really going to treat me like our infant daughter?"

"Just shut up and listen," he orders, then whispers in my ear, "Jason was supposed to come back today and take everyone to the new location. I was going to tell him we had to wait because od Scanlon and all the wounded. But, if I don't order it, they'll go anyway. You know Scanlon, he's gonna go, he's stubborn. The point is, they're gonna get out."

"Do you think they're worried about us, yet?"

"I'm sure they are," he replies, "Miles is probably leading a search party. They'll come and get us, then we'll get our perfect red house."

"But when?," I ask.

He sighs, "I don't know."

* * *

_"So how was it? First day?," Bass asks, as we pile into Miles' truck. _

_"Boring," I shrug, "all we did was paperwork and crap. And they gave us, like, fifty forms we have to get signed."_

_"Ok, but better or worse than first days of middle school?," Miles asks._

_"Um," I think, "better, I guess. And I'm pretty excited for this world history class. The teacher seems really cool."_

_"Are you in honors?," Bass asks._

_"History, yeah."_

_"Oh, then yeah, I've heard he's awesome."_

_"So, you excited for the rest of the year?," Miles puts in._

_"Um, no, not really," I chuckle, "it's school, so, no, I'm not exactly excited."_

_"It wasn't that bad," Bass argues._

_"Just wait," I tell him, "everyone says junior year is the hardest." _

_"Yeah, yeah," Bass mutters. "I'll be fine."_

_"Well, I'm pretty sure our anatomy teacher already hates you," Miles points out. _

_"Eh," he shrugs, "I've had worse."_


	6. Illis Quos Amo Iicturam Faciam

I gasp as something hits me, waking me up

"What is it?," Bass asks, tiredly, waking up, "What's going on?" I look to see what hit me. It's a burlap bag. Bass and I look at each other, and then I open it. Clothes are inside. Jeans, a sea green coloured tank top, socks... but there aren't any men's clothing.

"Well, that's just great," Bass mutters, after I point that out to him, "what the hell, huh? Fantastic."

"It's fine, Bass," I mutter, looking out the bars to see there's now four guards, as opposed to the usual one, staring at me expectantly. I turn away in disgust, "I'm not going to change anyway."

"Yes, you are," he says, "c'mon, stand up."

"You want me to change? In front of them?"

"Nope, in front of me," he says, standing up. He holds the burlap sack wide open so it makes like a curtain. I chuckle. "Go ahead."

"Ok," I laugh, and quickly pull on the jeans, then strip off the dress, and replace it with the tank top. I put my boots back on, then turn around and kiss Bass. We kiss passionately for a second, then break away.

"Now how about some food?," Bass asks. I laugh as one of the guards begrudgingly slides us a plate of probably stale bread, and a canteen. "We run this," he comments. I laugh and sit down. He hands me some bread after thoroughly checking it. I take a bite.

"What does this mean, do you think?," I ask, as the guards disperse, "the food, the clothes...?"

"It means," he replies, "they're not killing us just yet. They probably got word to D.C. Someone up there said not to kill us. Which is good."

"Well, obviously."

"No, but I mean," he lowers his voice, "a year ago, orders were to kill any of us on sight. Then the Truman thing happened, it well... you know. They wanted everyone but me alive. Then, when he died, we were back on the kill list. Something's changed."

"Ok, but what?"

"They're weaker," he says in a low voice, "I mean, keeping us in city hall in a town that they know our group knows is under their control? Must mean they don't have a lot of places to keep us. Not killing us..."

"Means they need to find our group more than they need us dead."

"Exactly," he says, then grins, "we're making a difference, Linds. We've done something."

"Yeah," I smile, "I guess we have."

"I'll tell you something else. If Jason came back yesterday, they'll be an entire day away, safe, by the end of today."

"Ok, but what does that-"

"If either of us breaks and tells them, they should be alright."

"That's a slim chance," I argue, "but it does make things a bit better."

"So, now the only thing we've gotta figure out is," he kisses my cheek, and whispers, "how are we gonna escape?" I look at him.

"We get guns," I reply, "both of us. We get guns, and we blow them all to hell."

"I love you."

I kiss him. "I love you too. But you know, it's interesting."

"What?"

"Well, I mean, all these times I've been held prisoner," I comment, "and this is the first time I'm with you."

"That's interesting to you?"

"Yeah, a little," I shrug. I hear a whistle, and Bass and I turn around to see Keamy wink at me and walk past. "Hey, does he remind you of somebody?"

"The dick with the accent?," Bass asks. Keamy does have a sort of northern accent. Brooklyn, maybe.

"Yeah."

"Um, I'm not sure."

"Yeah, neither am I," I try to place it and it hits me, "Drexel."

"What?"

"He reminds me of Drexel. Not, like, the sing songy stuff, but his facial expressions."

"Yeah, I guess so," he agrees. "Man, I haven't seen that bastard in years. You know he died, last year, or maybe the year before. Someone shot him apparently." I laugh. "What?"

"Um, that someone was Aaron," I reply.

"Aaron? Pittman?"

"Yeah."

"Staypuft? _Staypuft_ shot Drexel?"

_"Yes,"_ I chuckle, "We had a, um, run in with him... on our way to Philly. He was trying to make Aaron and Nora shoot each other. Aaron shot him."

"Well, where were you?," he asks. I just get kind of quiet as I remember where exactly I was during that episode. I was in an armoured car, where Drexel had put me. I was about to be stuck with a heroin filled needle, so I'd sleep with him.

"I was nowhere," I say quietly. He drops it, and we just sit for a while, not talking. Then someone comes by, and unlocks our cage.

"Doyle wants to see you," he says. Bass grabs my hand and we walk out. When the guard tries to seperate us, we just jerk away from him and let him grab Bass' arm and drag us forward. Bass looks back at me and mouths, 'one gun. Not yet.' I nod.

* * *

**Seven years before the Blackout**

_I sit in the second row, not exactly in the middle, and wait for my psychology class to start. It's my first period. There are three other people in here, not including the teacher. He was also my history teacher last hear History was my favourite class and it was amazing, so it should be interesting. The teacher is pretty fun, although kind of loose with grades and paperwork. But he knows his stuff._

_Two giggling girls walk in, and sit in the back. One more person walks in, a kid with dark brown hair. He sits in the front, and the teacher says hi to him. He nods, and says 'good to see you again.' Clearly, he's had him before. The bell rings, and the teacher stands up. _

_"Ok," he says, sitting at the podium up front, "rule number one? Coffee." Everyone just kind of looks confused. Except the brown haired kid up front. He just laughs to himself. "If you're gonna have to come in here, and talk about your psychological problems at eight in the morning, you're gonna have to have coffee to do it. I supply it, you guys bring anything else you wanna add."_

_"Wait," one of the giggling girls asks, "talk? We're not just gonna learn about bipolar disorder and stuff?"_

_"Nope," he says, and laughs dryly, "this class is going to be ninety percent discussion. You have books because you have to. We learn at our own speed because there's no exam for this class. We drink coffee because we're pathetic and can't function without it."_

_"Why is this such a small class?," someone else asks. I look around. Including me, there's only seven other people here. _

_"Because no one signs up for it," he replies, "the school pushes math and science. But not psychology, somehow. Which is a science, I'm pretty sure. But, they don't care. This class is not promoted. To most people, it doesn't exist. So they just kind of stick student who didn't sign up for anything in particular in here. Now, you're all juniors and seniors, right?" I raise my hand._

_"I'm a sophomore," I say._

_"Lindsay, you're in here? That's weird. I've never had anything but juniors and seniors in this class."_

_"Well... I'm in here."_

_"Well, alright. This'll make this class more interesting. Everyone needs to make nice, because you're gonna need to trust each other. Everyone, come group together. I'm going to play music." I slowly grab my stuff and sit in the front row, next to the dark headed kid. _

_"Hi," he says. _

_"Hi," I say back. "I'm Lindsay, uh, Matheson."_

_ "Oh, you're Bethany's daughter," he says, "Our moms are really good friends," he extends his hand, "I'm Garrett Clarke."_

* * *

Bass and I sit in our chairs as we did yesterday. They tie him up as they did yesterday. They tighten the ropes a lot, and he grimaces. I put my hands behind the chair for them, but they don't tie me up or handcuff me or anything. I look at Bass in panic, but he just blinks. Somehow that calms me down a little.

Doyle is already sitting in the green armchair. I look at him, and examine his waist. No gun. But the two guards have them. Two guns. Now I've just got to tell Bass.

"Miss Matheson."

"Doyle."

"Yesterday was... unproductive," he notes, "ao today, I thought we'd try something different."

"Oh, so you won't be pouring boiling hot tea down my throat? That's too bad. I was looking forward to it."

"Unfortunately for you, then, no, I will not," he smiles, "You're very charming, though."

"I've been told."

"Oh, I'm sure," he says, "and Monroe, I don't know how you stand it." Bass doesn't answer, so he goes on, "Well, you're living with all those clan men from Nevada. I just don't know if I could have the patience you do. If my so called wife was sleeping with all those men on the side? I would just explode."

"Can we just get on with this?," Bass asks, bored, "I've got a bit of a tight schedule."

"Yes, let's do that," he says, "Alright, so today, I'm going to give you a list of questions that you will answer. Ready?"

"Set, go," Bass mutters.

"Good. Here they are: where us your little group hiding? What are your plans? How many of you are there? And, finally, what do you know about Aaron Pittman and the so called nanotechnology?" He looks down at his papers, I guess ro make sure he covered everything, and I get Bass attention by stomping my foot slightly. He looks over at me, and I hold up two fingers, then make a gun with them. He looks at me quizzically. 'Two guards', I mouth, 'two guns.' He smiles slightly and nods. Then he rolls his head back, as if he's bored.

"So, can you just start doing whatever you're gonna do?," he asks, "because I'd like to make my three thirty appointment."

"Sorry, Monroe, I don't think that's on the table for you today."

"Well, you're gonna have to squeeze it in," he persists, "so can you just, like, start punching me or whatever?"

"Actually, we tried that, and it was fruitless. We're trying something different," he clears his throat and nods to the guard by the door. It opens, and Keamy walks in. I look between Bass and Doyle. "Clearly, Miss Matheson doesn't care about you enough to stop the beatings. But, perhaps you care about her enough to stop her torture. Mr. Keamy approached me yesterday and made it clear he has a certain... ah, interest, in Miss Matheson. Is that right, Mr. Keamy?"

"Yes, sir, that about sums it up," Keamy says, with a sick smile.

"So, with that," he smiles, "I'll let him chat with you today. I'll be back in a while." He leaves.

"Well, alright," Keamy says, coming to stand in front of me, "let's have some fun. Here's what's gonna happen. One of you is gonna tell me what we wanna know." He sweeps my hair over my shoulder and twists it around, then looks at Bass, "whether that be before or after I'm done banging your wife, well, that's up to you." He leans down to say in my ear, "don't think I don't know what you're thinking." He unbuckles his gun off its holster and tosses it to another man in the room.

"Ok, alright," Bass says, as Keamy starts circling me. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths. While Bass is distracting hm, I'm going to attack. But I have to do it at the exact right moment. "Just calm down... Keamy, right? Ok, just... just think about it. You don't want to do this."

"Uh, yeah, Monroe I do," he chuckles, "your bitch here? Fine piece of tail."

"Just stop," Bass pleads, "just think of what you're doing? Do you want to destroy someone's life like this?"

"And you know all about that, huh, Gen-" I jump up, my fist slamming into his face. I don't knock him over, but rather propel him into the wall. No! That is not what I wanted to happen. Because now-

"No!," I scream, as he gains the upper hand and flips us over, so he's on top of me against the wall.

"Get off of her!," Bass shouts. I try to push Keamy away, but he grabs my wrists. I hear a click, and then I can't bring my arms down. I look up to see he's handcuffed them to a metal pipe running along the wall. He shoves me backward, my back slamming against the hard wall.

"Stop! Please, st- _No!,"_ he punches me in the face. I plead some more. I hate that I can never just take it, or fight it off. That I always sound weak and beg for them to stop. Especially because, with guys like Keamy, it only turns them on more.

He just kind of looks at me, wondering where to start. I start to say something and he punches me again. Then he undoes his tie, and gags me quickly. I try to talk through it, but all I can get out are sobs. I can barely see through my tears. Keamy tries to get my jeans off, and I thrash around, trying to get away from him. He retaliates by crushing my body with his. He puts his hands on my sides, and runs them down my body as he crouches down ro remove my boots. Then he stands back up.

"You know," he whispers, "if you want, we can, uh, get rid of him, take this to a room with a bed. But don't worry... we'll keep the handcuffs." I cry out as much as possible.

"Just leave her alone!," Bass shouts. I realize he's been shouting this whole time. "Let her go!" Keamy ignores him and grabs my face. I try to move away, but he digs in his fingernails into my skin. My eyes water more from the pain. I can't let him do this! I need this to stop! I can't let this happen again! But what can I do? Risk my daughter's life by telling him? Risk my husband's by attacking him? Or just deal with it? Go through the pain? Sleep with him to make it less painful? I consider all these options, and then his lips come crashing into my neck. I try to get away, and keep him from getting too passionate, but I'm powerless.

"Stop!," Bass screams, "I'll tell you whatever you want to know!" Keamy breaks away.

"I haven't even had my fun yet," he complains.

"Give me...," he breaths heavily from his anger, "two minutes with my wife. All I'm asking is two minutes. And we'll figure out if we'll tell you, or you can... do whatever you want."

"Fine," he agrees, letting me go. My body swings forward. "But next time I come in here, if you don't spill, I'm gonna screw her so hard."

Bass glares at him as he exits. One of the guards seems to take pity on us, and unties him. He nods his thanks. As soon as he's gone, Bass jumps up, and rushes over to me. He pulls the tie out of my mouth and I take a deep breath.

"Oh, God," I sob.

"Lindsay," he whispers, "Lindsay, look at me." I bring my head up to look him in the eye, tears still pouring. "It's ok. It's gonna be ok."

"No, it's not," I argue. "Bass, you can't tell him."

"Lindsay, I have to."

"No, you can't," I plead, "Bass, our daughter. Angela is-"

"They'll be gone, they'll be safe. We have a scout system for a-"

"You don't _know_ she's safe! If they catch our family-"

"I'm not going to watch you get raped!," he shouts, "I am not going to watch that man take my wife against her will. I am going to save you. And if you'd just listen, I have a plan."

"What?"

"I'm going to start to tell him," he whispers, "then stop. He'll come toward you, you kick him as hard as you can. Stomach, face, crotch, wherever. I'll get free, grab a gun, we'll get out."

"Bass, that's a long shot," I whisper back.

"It's going to work," he insists.

"How do you know?," I demand.

"Because that guard cut me loose," he says, "we're not dealing with all sociopaths here." I think about it for a while. Our two minutes are almost up, I know.

"Just get me away from him," I plead in a whisper.

"Lindsay," he says quietly, cupping his hand around the back of my neck amd touching his forehead to mine. "I'm going to get you out of here. I promise." He kisses me. I kiss back but it's hard. I want to grab him, pull him closer. But I can't. He pulls me closer, though. I just keep kissing him. Then the door opens, and they pull him off of me. I gasp for air. Keamy chuckles, and then his fist slams into my face again.

"Hey!," Bass shouts. Keamy keeps hitting me. I plead for him stop. "What are you doing?"

"You think I don't know what you and this bitch were trying to pull?," he shouts, "you think we weren't listening?"

"Please, stop," I beg, breathing heavily. I can barely move. "We weren't-" he scares me into silence by getting really close and placing his hands on either side of me against the wall.

"Turn around," he says dangerously.

"Please," I whisper.

_"Turn around,"_ he growls, pulling out his gun, "or I shoot him."

"Lindsay, don't," Bass commands. I look between him and the gun and shake my head, my face twisting as I cry. "I swear to God, Linds, don't you dare do anything."

"I'm sorry," I sob.

"No, Lindsay, don't!"

"I'm _sorry,"_ I repeat, as I painfully use my toes to turn myself around. I'm facing the wall now, and my arms cross over each other above me. I bury my face into the skin of my arm by my head, as I cry. What now? How can we possibly get out of here now?! I gasp as Keamy's hands slide up the back of my tank top. Bass won't quit screaming. Hands move around my back, over my bra strap. I feel something wet on my back- his tongue. I whimper in disgust. What is wrong with people? How can they do something like this to a person? Then, he does something I don't expect. He hits me. I cry out and see the black rod that Doyle had in his hand. He hits my back over and over again. I scream in pain. It feels like being whipped, except I don't bleed. But it hurts just as much. I can't stand the pain. I bite my lip, hard. If I don't, I'll tell him. It slaps my back over and over again.

"Stop, dammit!," Bass shouts. But he doesn't. I'm sobbing so hard, I may throw up. "Stop! I will tell you where they are. I will tell you whatever you want. Just-just stop." His voice cracked.

"Bass-"

"Shut up," he says harshly. I close my eyes, my head drooping from exhaustion. "You wanna know where they are? I'll tell you. But I want her cut loose first."

"Not happening, Monroe," Keamy snaps. "You tell me first, then I set her free."

"Ok," he says softly, "Ok. There's a place about fifteen hours outside Willoughby. It's an old factory. Three stories. There's a shed behind it, a blue shed. What you do is you go North from the cellar we used to live in, and just keep going. When you go over the state line-"

"Here's a better idea," Keamy interrupts, "You're gonna take me there."

"Ok," he says, hesitantly, "As soon as she can walk long distances, we'll-"

"No. _She_ is going to stay here. And you're coming with me."

"One day," Bass demands, "we can leave in the morning. But you are giving me one day to take care of my wife. And when I go, I want her out of that damn cell, and in a suitable room, with a bed, and some clothes that actually cover her body. I don't know how long we'll be gone, but it'll be at least two days. And while she's here, you _better_ take care of her. And if _anyone_ touches my wife, I will _kill_ every single one of you." Keamy is silent for a long time. I can't see them, as my back is to them. But, he sounds smug, when he says:

"Deal."


	7. You'll Be Okay

"You're not coming back!," I shout, shoving Bass away from me. He raises his hand and I cringe away from him. If he pushed me right now, or hit me, it would hurt so bad. Just pushing him hurt my back a little bit. But he doesn't hurt me. He just puts his hands up to keep me from hurting him.

"Yes, I am," he says softly.

"I heard you talking to him!," I insist, "you were talking like you're not coming back."

"Well, be real, Lindsay!," he snaps, in a whisper, "you think they won't kill me when they find out everyone is gone?"

"You don't know that they are!"

"Linds, c'mon, you gotta know I would never tell them if I didn't believe that my daughter was safe."

"But you don't know!," I reply.

"Either way I told them," he murmurs, "can we just sit down? I'm leaving in the morning, I want to spend my time with you not arguing."

"I can't," I pout.

"Lindsay, please, I'm so-"

"No, I mean I can't sit," I shake my head, "not against the wall, or against you." Tears fill my eyes. "It hurts too much." I definitely can't lay down.

"Lay on your stomach then," he says softly. I start to move and feel pain on my back. But I manage to lay my stomach against the floor, my arms by my sides. "Can I look at it?" He asks. I just nod. He gently lifts up the tank top to examine the bruises on my back. He inhales sharply.

"It's bad?," I ask. He replaces the cloth back over it, then lays down on his stomach next to me.

"Yes," he murmurs, moving my hair, "but you'll be ok." I just scoff and turn my head the other way.

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"What?"

"That I'll be ok. You say that over and over again. Then I get captured. You say it again, then I get beat with a stick. And the worst part is, sometimes, when you say it, I _believe_ you. And it makes everything hurt more, Bass, when my hope gets crushed like that."

"If I don't say it," he says, "then you won't have hope ever. And I can't stand seeing that hopelessness in your eyes."

"So you just lie to me?," I ask, looking at him.

"No," he murmurs, "I really do believe that, someday, you and I will be ok. Don't you?"

"I don't know what I believe anymore," I say quietly. He's silent for a bit, then kisses my forehead.

"Just go to sleep, Linds," he sighs.

"Will you-"

"I'll be here in the morning," he says. He arranges the dress I was wearing to form a pillow, and then uses the burlap sack as a blanket. "I'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

**Six years before the Blackout**

_I watch as the slideshow starts over, showing everyone's baby pictures, another cheesy song playing. My phone buzzes and I flip it open to read a text from Bass. 'How long is this dumb thing?' I type back, quickly, 'It's your graduation, stupid, how am I supposed to know?' After I send it, I find him in the crowd of chairs on the gymnasium floor. He looks down, reads the text, then finds me, and grins, shrugging. I roll my eyes. _

_"Hey, put that away," Dad says quietly, "they're about to start."_

_"They should've started twenty minutes ago," Bass' sister, Cynthia, mutters. _

_"Stop whining," her mother comments. "Just sit through it, then we'll go to lunch, ok?"_

_"Whatever," she mutters. _

_"Mom, I have to go to the bathroom," Angela says._

_"Oh, uh, Cyn," she says, "will you take your sister to the bathroom, please?"_

_"She's eleven," Cynthia points out, "I think she can handle it."_

_"Please? I don't want her walking around by herself, the crowd is so big."_

_"Yeah, fine, sure," she groans. I look over at them._

_"Hey, Gayle, I'll go with them, if you want," I offer. _

_"Would you, Lindsay, dear?"_

_"Sure, no problem," I smile. We stand up and make our way through the crowd. I turn to Cynthia. "Sorry. If I made you feel like a kid. Your mom just looked worried."_

_"Oh, it's fine," she shrugs, tossing her curly brown hair over her shoulder. "She wouldn't be so upset if my dad was here."_

_"Is he not going to make it?," I ask. _

_"He'll be here later," she shrugs, "he's just working now."_

_"Oh, ok," I say softly. She waits until Angela is in the bathroom before speaking again._

_"They fight so much, though," she mutters, "I wish I was moving out like Bass."_

_"Has it gotten any better?," I ask._

_"A little," she shrugs, "they've kind of realized that Angie and I know they're fighting, so they have to stop rather than just hide it from us. But, it's whatever."_

_"Well, hey," I offer, "we're done with school. So there's something good."_

_"Yeah," she agrees, "and I'm not a freshman anymore. So yay me, I guess."_

_"Ben liked freshman year, I think."_

_"Well, Ben's a genius," he points out, "Life's always fun when you don't have to try for anything." I chuckle. She'd be surprised how much of the time Ben isn't having fun._

_"Well, my sophomore year was fun," I say, reflecting on this past year, "hopefully yours will be too."_

_"Maybe," she replies, then calls, "Ang, c'mon. We gotta get back before it starts." Angela comes out after a second._

_"I wasn't taking that long," she points out._

_ "I know, but our brother is graduating and mom will get ticked if we miss it. Let's go." _

* * *

Bass didn't lie. He was by my side when I woke up. I guess it's morning. He's sitting next to me, against the bars, his forehead against his hand.

"Bass," I call. He immediately tries to look happier.

"Hey, Linds," he says, with a soft smile. "How do you feel?"

"Better," I murmur, sitting up. "I can move without excruciating pain now."

"That's great," he says.

"Bass?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop smiling."

"What?"

"I'm not a child," I say, "You can't make me think everything is ok by smiling." His smile falls.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, "listen, I'm leaving in a few minutes."

"Kill them."

"Yeah, right. I do that, and they'll shoot you before they identify the bodies."

"Do it anyway."

"No," he says coolly. We stare at each other for a bit, then he says, "stop that."

"What?"

"Being mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you."

"Now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"Lindsay."

I sigh. "Fine. But how am I supposed to feel? You're leaving me with these dicks, and there's a good chance you're not coming back. I'm probably never going to see you, or my family, my _baby,_ again. I'm a little pissed."

"What was I supposed to _do?,"_ he hisses, "let him keep hitting you? Watch him rape you?"

"Yes," I say, standing up.

"Don't give me that crap," he snaps, "look me in the eye and tell me that if it was me, you wouldn't have the same damn thing. If it was me, tied up, being beat, abused, you wouldn't do anything to stop it?"

"Bass-"

"Don't lie to me."

"I tried to give up! But you wouldn't let me!"

"So why are you so angry?"

"Because I don't want to lose you!," I scream, "I told you. This is the only time I have been captive with you and it has been so much easier than any other time I've been caught. I love you, I don't want you to die!"

"I'm not going to die."

"Stop lying!," I cry, "Promise me, right now, you're coming back!"

"I can't," he admits. I shake my head, and turn away. "I can't promise you that. Unless you want me to lie to you."

"If she's there," I turn to face him, "if our baby is there, and you were wrong, you kill them before they get her. I don't care if they kill me. You kill them, and get her the hell away."

"Then I'll come get you," he agrees.

"And don't die," I say, my voice cracking. I go over to him and hug him tightly, "Dammit, Bass, don't you dare die on me."

"No," he murmurs, stroking my hair. He pulls away, so that he can kiss me. I don't hesitate for a second before I pull him closer to me, my hand knotting into his hair. I open my lips for him as he pushes me against him, his hands on my back. I gasp for air in short, quick breaths before resuming the kiss. He turns so we're against the bars of the cell, adjoining it to the other one. "I swear," he whispers, in between kissing my neck, ear, cheek, everything he can reach, really, "if we were alone." I just laugh, holding onto him by his back, as my body threatens to fall over. His does too, and we almost do tumble to the ground, but we stop simultaneously instead.

"We can't," I pant, "We're not alone."

"I know," he says back. "I wish we could though..."

"One more time before you left," I finish. He's quiet for a while.

"I am coming back, you know."

"I know."

"No, really, I am."

I smile a little. "What makes you so sure?"

"You."

"Me? What do you mean?"

"All those times I almost lost you," he says, "and you always came back to me. You give me hope."

"You give me strength," I point out. The door opens, and Keamy walks in, his buddy next to him.

"You give me love," he says, ignoring it.

"You'll be ok," I say, my voice quivereng too much.

"You'll be ok, too," he promises. They unlock our cell, and order that we come out. "I love you."

"I love you too," I choke amidst sobs. We walk out, and they put the handcuffs on us.

"Monroe, you're gonna come with me, meet our group outside" Keamy says. "Miss Matheson, you're gonna go with him," he nods to his buddy, "to your new home." Bass just keeps his eyes on me. They start pulling us in opposite directions. Suddenly, I'm filled with the same amount of fear as I was when Keamy ordered me to turn around. I look behind me, to see Bass walking away.

"Bass," I say, then I scream it, "Bass! _Bass!,"_ I try to get away from my guard. He turns around, just as Keamy opens the door. "Bass, wait! Wait! Oh, God! Bass!" I break out of my guard's arms, and run with my full speed. Bass gets away from Keamy at the same time I reach him and catches me.

"It's ok," he whispers, stroking my hair as I sob into his shoulder. "It's alright."

"Come back," I pant, "Please, please, _please_ come back."

"I will," he promises, "look at me. If you believe anything I've ever told you, believe this. I am coming back. I swear to you, I'm coming back " I sniff, and kiss him several times.

"I love you," I say again, "I love you, Bass, I love you so much."

"I love you, too," he says, kissing me, "I'll love you until the day I die. But it won't be today, and it won't be tomorrow. It will be a long time from now, when we are old, and can't move anymore. I'm coming back to you, because I love you."

"Goodbye," I whisper, as my guard grabs my arm again.

"See you soon," he replies. Then Keamy pulls him out the door. It shuts with a slam. Then it's quiet, and he's gone. My legs nearly give out from under me as I sob, and I nearly fall over.

"Stand up," my guard growls, jerking me to my feet. "Hands against the wall, and spread your legs." Still crying, but less violently, I do as he commands, my hands close together due to the handcuffs. He pats me down, going slower than he should, and touching more than he's supposed to. Then, he blindfolds me.

"Hey!," I call. I can't see anything! He could hit me at any time or do anything at any time. I don't know where he is. He spins me around. There's a pause. "Pull out your necklace." He seems to be in front of me. I reach up with my bound hands and find the chain, then pull on it until the clock comes out. He takes it before I let it go, and examines it. "There's no glass?" I just stare up towards his voice. I hate when people touch my necklace. Or stand this close to me. Especially when I can't see.

"It's broken," I say in a small voice. He just makes some noise of acknowledgement and lets it go. Then he grabs my arm and starts pulling me forward. This is awful. My hands are in front of me. I feel like I'm stumbling. I hear a door slam close somewhere. We keep walking and then I feel a tiny breeze from a door opening in front of me. Then I feel more wind, and its warm. I smell baking bread, and various plants, and horses, and people. I'm outside. It's bright out, I know that much.

"There's a few steps here," the guard cautions. I stumble down step after step. I grasp for something desperately. He grabs my wrists and puts my hands on the rail. I keep them in front of me so I'll know when the stairs stop. My hand falls as the rail stops, and then I take a very careful step. He starts walking at normal pace and I sigh in relief. That was harder than I thought it'd be.

After the steps, there's no more problems other than the difficulty of walking blindfolded, with your hands bound in front of you. My guard opens a door, and then pushes me inside. It gets darker, and it smells like peppermint. Peppermint! That's how Truman always smelled! I stop walking now, the memory of that man terrifying me.

"Move," the man orders, pushing me. I try to back up, but he pushes some more. "Move, bitch." He pushes very hard, but I struggle very hard. The force of it makes me fall to the ground. I use my bound hands to try to get back up, but then I hear Doyle's voice.

"That's far enough, Marks," he says. "You can take the blindfold off." The cloth is ripped away from my eyes, and I blink rapidly, taking in the scene. I'm in the foyer of some house. It's well lit, and I can see the pattern on the walls, and the hardwood floors. Immediately to my right is a long staircase. To my left, there's an open living area, and then a hallway with many doors. And directly in front of me is Doyle. He's standing above me, his hands causally in his suit pockets, looking smug. "Stand up," he orders. I slowly, with difficulty, push myself up.

"Where am I?," I demand, wondering if all Patriot houses smell like peppermint.

"You," he says, beckoning for me to follow him into the living room, "are in my house. Would you care for a drink?"

"No, I wouldn't," I say, "Why am I in your house?"

"Come with me," he orders. I follow him back into the foyer and up the stairs. Up here, there is another hallway with many more doors. "Before they had the town under control, several of the officers lived in this house. Edward Truman, God rest his soul, was one of them." He stops at a door, and starts unlocking it.

"Was this his bedroom?," I ask, before I even look around it.

Doyle chuckles. "No. But that would be fitting, wouldn't it? Given you're basically his widow."

"I'm not his wife," I say sharply, anger bubbling up inside of me. "I was never married to him. I was never enganged to him. I never loved him. I never had his child. I love Sebastian Monroe, I married _him,_ I had _his_ child. Don't you dare say any different."

"And yet, he's also the one who raped you," Doyle muses. I go to slap him, but he catches my wrist, gives me an amused, but stern look, and unlocks my handcuffs. "Someone will bring you food in ten minutes or so. There's a hot bath ready for you, towels in the cabinet, clothes in the wardrobe. When you're done with any of them, put them in the hamper by the door. If anything doesn't fit, tell someone when they bring your meals. No one will touch you, unless your uncooperative. You'll stay in this room until you're told otherwise. You'll do as I and my men say, or you'll be punished in some way or another. Is that clear?" I give a tight nod. "Any questions?" I don't say anything, because I'm afraid if I do, I'll cry. "Good." He starts to close the door.

"Wait!," I call at the last second, "When my husband comes back," I remember that they think he'll have my family with him, "and my daughter, they'll be in here too?" He just smiles.

"Enjoy your stay, Miss Matheson." Then the door shuts.

* * *

_ "Congratulations!," I squeal, in chorus with all the other friends, parents, family, and so on. I don't get hugged first, by either of them. My mom and dad and Bass' mom and dad receive that honour. Then Miles crushes me in a huge bear hug, the kind he hardly ever does. I squeeze back, although he's crushing me. I add, in a strained voice another, "Congrats, big brother." _

_"Oh, God, thanks, little sister," he lets go, and I take a deep breath of air. He chuckles. "Sorry." He starts to say more, but then we hear:_

_"Lindsay!"_

_"Bass!," I shout back, jokingly, like I haven't seen him in years. We hug for a while. It's the first time I full on hugged him in a long time. Holy crap, has he always been this muscular? Oh my God. Finally, we both pull away. "Congratulations, Bass."_

_"Thanks," he grins. He starts to say more, but we're overtaken by his family and my family, asking when are we going to eat lunch, take pictures, are we going to any grad parties, etc. Then, it's a crowd of other graduates, clapping each other on the back, hugging, cheering. I catch Garrett in the crowd, and smile and wave. He does the same. I can barely hear myself think, and Miles asks me if I'm ok. I tell I'm fine, it's just really stuffy in here. He says that we're going to start walking to the car and that we'll go to lunch later. Bass says he's coming with us. Miles and I walk for a while, and then I see Bass come up beside me in the empty hallway. _

_"Hey, there's my two favourite seniors!," I say, putting my arms around them._

_"Not seniors, Linds," Bass points to his hat, that's falling off, "we're done with this place."_

_"Well, until the juniors are seniors next year, you're my favourite seniors." _

_"And in sixty years, we're gonna be her favourite seniors again!," Miles adds. _

_"Ah, but then," Bass jokes, "she'll be our favourite senior, too."_

_"Am I to take that to mean you're never getting married?," I ask teasingly. _

_"Doesn't matter who I marry," Bass shrugs, "you'll always be my favourite senior."_

_"Why don't you just marry her then?," Miles asks, smirking. _

_"What?," I ask, half a second before Bass does._

_"Shut up, Miles," he says, but I notice he's glaring. Not jokingly. His look softens when he sees me looking. "Besides, she's got a boyfriend."_

_"Mark?," I ask, then scoff. "I'm not going to marry Mark."_

_"Lindsay Shepherd," Miles remarks, "It's got a nice ring to it."_

_"Shut up, Miles," I nudge him. _

_"You guys are exactly alike," he nods between me and Bass, chuckling._

_"Ok, well what about Emma?," Bass says, "are you gonna marry Emma?"_

_"Emma and I... broke up," he says, suddenly serious._

_"What?," I ask. When did that happen?_

_"She broke up with me," he replies, "I guess it was cause of the whole military thing, you know. I knew she was pissed that I didn't tell her until after I enlisted, but I mean, she knew that was my plan." I notice Bass is quiet. Then I realize, yeah, Emma didn't come over to our group back there. _

_"I'm sorry, Miles," I murmur. _

_"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, "it's ok." We're quiet for a while, then Bass says:_

_"So we're all hopeless," he starts pointing us out, starting with himself, "single, dumped, in a loveless relationship..."_

_"Yeah, so you just marry Lindsay," Miles says, "and I'll drink through my own way." _

_"Well the truth is," Bass starts, nudging me, "Lindsay and I are already wed."_

_"Oh, really?," Miles laughs. _

_"Yep," he nods seriously, "Tell him, Lindsay."_

_"Oh, yes, Miles," I play along, keeping a straight face, "We didn't want to rush things, but after we found out about the baby..." _

_"Oh, you're pregnant now?"_

_"Almost three months," I shrug, "The wedding was beautiful. Flowers, wine, the bright lights of the casino next door shining down like God's light from heaven."_

_"And the honeymoon...," Bass muses._

_"Oh, the honeymoon was hot," I chuckle, "and not just because we were at the beach."_

_"Ok, ok, ok," Miles stops us, and shudders, "ok, ew, that's enough." By this point, we're at our families' cars. _

_"Alright, I'm gonna bring the car around," Bass says._

_"Yeah, let's do that," Miles agrees, "before the traffic gets bad." He gets into the driver's seat of our van, and I get in beside him. He chuckles. _

_"I just can't stop laughing," he says, "you and Bass, getting married."_

_"Oh, I know," I laugh, turning on the radio, "we'd be a train wreck."_

_"Ha," he says, looking at Bass, through the window. Bass sees us looking, and waves at me. "If you only knew."_

_"What's that supposed to mean?," I ask, looking at him. If I only knew __**what?**_

_"Nothing," he chuckles, "let's go get the parents."_

* * *

It's a nice room, I'll admit. They seem to have made it overly feminine, though. The walls are a soft, rosy pink. The bed has a white, elegantly carved frame, with sheets to match the walls, and a pristine white blanket. There's also a bookshelf, with things ranging only from knitting to cooking. That's... extremely sexist. The desk is purely for decoration. There's no paper, or writing untensils anywhere to be found. I open the wardrobe to see nothing but feminine dresses and blouses. There's some tank tops, but they're clearly meant for wearing under clothing, not travelling. They all have lace on the top and on the bottom. I go into the bathroom, where a steaming bath is waiting. I don't get in yet. Someone will be by to give me food, and there's no door on this bathroom. I do open the cabinet and see towels, a neatly folded robe, a toothbrush, and toothpaste. I go to feel the towels, when I hear the door open and close.

I go back into the room to see the guard who brought me here. He sets a plate of food on the small table with one chair. Then he sits in the armchair, and nods at the food.

"I'd like some privacy while I'm eating," I say in a strong voice.

"And I'd like for you to have already been in that tub when I came in," he smirks, "eat, or I take the food away." I sit at the table and study the meal. It's simple. Dry steak with green beans and a roll. I locate the silverware to see only a spoon. "You expect me to eat steak with a spoon?"

"I expect you to shut up and do as your told," he says, stretching out, putting his hands behind his head, "unless, of course, you're being uncooperative..." I recall what Doyle said, and sit down quickly. It's difficult, but finally, I get a piece cut and scoop it up. I put it in my mouth and chew. It's a bit overcooked, and kind of bland, but still good. I contemplate how stupid it is that they gave me a spoon. Hypothetically, if I possessed the skill to hold them down and kill them with a fork or knife, I could do it with a spoon. With that satisfactory thought, I reach for the glass of wine. "Something funny?" I realize I had been smiling.

"Just your level of incompetence," I say, with a shrug.

"Oh, yeah? What's that mean?"

"You keep staring at me while I eat," I point out, "you made a remark about seeing me naked. I've seen your eyes on my chest. And yet, you're not allowed to touch me unless I misbehave."

"And that's stupid of me?"

"Yes. You're under the impression that I'm going to lie down and spread my legs for you. I'm sure that's a superiority complex. And it's because you're in a position of power. My guess is you've never been in one before. And why? Because you're incompetent. Now, babysitting me, is easy. I'm not going to run. They have my husband, possibly my child. I'm not going to put them at risk. They trust you to watch me because it's an easy job."

"Oh, really?" I can see him growing angrier and angrier.

"Mmhmm," I say, as I sip more wine. "If they believed in you at all, you'd be with Keamy and my husband, doing the hard job. But they put you here. In a pink room with silk sheets. They trust you, and believe in you about as much as they do me." I finish my meal, though it's not all gone, and push my plate away. "Ah, see, _now,_ I've pushed your buttons. Lets talk about why that is." I stand up. "You're not a high ranking officer, obviously. And you're not young, obviously. You've been in this same position for a while. You've felt powerless before. And you probably do now.

So I could ask you for things. I could ask you for new books, or paints, or paper and pen. But I won't. Beause saying 'no' is something that makes you feel powerful. And I'm the only damn person you're allowed to say no to, aren't I?" He stands too.

"You shut your mouth, bitch," he spits. I've made him angry. I've made him _so_ angry.

"I wasn't informed that talking was off lim-" I'm silenced by a hand hitting my skin. He moved so fast. He keeps hitting. I eventually regain awareness, and fight back. I bring my fist into his face, and my knee into his back. When he's down, I roll away and stand defensively.

"You wanna know how it feels to be powerless?," he asks. "I'll just show you, won't I?" He tries to get on top of me, and eventually he does get me onto the bed. But before he can do anything, I roll off. After I stand up, I don't see him. I look every which way, but then he grabs me from behind. I shout in surprise. He uses his strength to force me to bend over, my hands on the bed. "By the time I'm done with you, you won't have anything to say. Except useless, _pathetic_ pleas. You'll be begging me to stop. Or maybe, just maybe, you'll be begging me for more." I free my right arm and elbow his side. He goes to punch me but I duck. He kicks me instead. I yelp and fall down.

"Hey!," a voice comes. The door opens. The soldier freezes and stands up.

"Sir," he says immediately.

"I was under the impression we're not supposed to touch the lady," he says. That voice. I _know_ that voice!

"Bitch was giving me problems," he shrugs. I start to stand up, and freeze when I see who it is. I stare wide eyed at him, but he ignores me.

"Now, c'mon," he says, "that language isn't necessary."

"Well-," he stops, because I hit the back of his head with an unlit lamp. Then, I look over at my rescuer.

"Hey, Vincent," I say, out of breath, moving my hair out of my eyes. He closes the door.

"Hey, Linds," he nods, "let's get you home."


	8. Let's Kill Tonight

After waiting a few seconds to make sure no one is going to barge in, Vincent helps me drag the man's body into the bathroom. Then he goes to close the door.

"Uh, there's no door here," he points out.

"Yeah, I noticed," I reply, still breathing a bit heavy. Vincent gives me a careful look, and I know he's wondering if anybody did anything. "I'm fine. What you saw him do was the closest anyone got."

"You want me to just kill him?," he asks. I smile slightly. I can't really expect more. He _is_ from a warclan, after all.

"Always so charming," I mutter, "do you have anything but a gun on you?"

"No," he admits.

"Then no," I shake my head. "It'd be loud and give us away."

"Right," he nods. "Let's go then."

"Alright," I say, "we can't get out the window, it's locked." He pulls out two guns, and hands one to me.

"Shoot the lock," he suggests. "Then scream."

"What?"

"Shoot the lock and scream," he repeats. I catch on and shake my head.

"Punch me first," I demand.

"No need," he says, "That bastard did enough damage." I nod, and look out the window, and the lock on it.

"Should I punch you?," I ask, softly. The adrenaline was rushing, and I was overcome with a sense of victory after knocking out the soldier. But now I'm worried about Bass. And I feel exposed and vulnerable. I cross my arms.

"You sound a little too eager," he jokes, "but no, just, uh, take the gun, and shoot the lock. I'll grab it from you when they walk in." I nod again, and shoot the lock. Then I scream as if I'm in pain. We hear footsteps, and the door opens. Vincent rips the gun out of my hands, and pushes me to the ground. I fall and turn on the tears, holding my bruised face.

"What the hell happened?," one soldier demands. Vincent looks behind him, and then moves around, gun still pointed at me, so he's in front of the shot lock.

"She grabbed the gun while I was taking her plate," he lies. "got her down before she could do any real damage. What do we do?"

"Well, Doyle said punishment," one says, shifting to one foot then the other. They don't know what do to do. "I don't think getting him is necessary..." Another steps up.

"Just tie her to a chair and give her a beating," he snaps, "then we'll go out and get drinks." Um... what?

"You guys go ahead," Vincent offers, "I'll take care of her."

"Who are you?"

"I'm new," he says, "fresh from DC. I figure you guys are all buddies, right? Well, I don't even know you. So you guys go hang out, and I'll make sure she gets what she deserves."

"Thanks, man," the first one says. "and hey, when you're done, come and join us at the bar."

"Yeah, sure," he nods, "thanks." The group of three leave, and then Vincent locks the door.

"That was really good," I tell him quietly.

"Thanks," he chuckles, "I was voted most charismatic in my senior year of high school."

"Nice," I compliment, then put my hand on my chest, "most dramatic."

"I can see that," he notes. I chuckle. "Oh, here's a gun." I thank him, and look out the window. "How far are we from the woods?"

"I have no idea," I admit, "I was blindfolded when they brought me in."

"Ok, then," he sighs. I take off the busted lock and open the window slowly.

"Here we go," I whisper. I inch out first, onto the slanted roof. Vincent is right behind me. We look out to see how many guards. There's two at the back, one in the front. I look around the town. Most shops are open. I look over at Vincent. "Ok. Ok, you should go and buy us some clothes. Just um, maybe like a floppy hat, and sunglasses for me. You can just get it, probably, because they'll think you're a Patriot. And I have dresses in here. I'll put my hair up, and, I'll...I'll do something. Just go."

"Lindsay, we should-"

"No, no we can't," I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth. If I'm caught... what they'll do... what that man in my bathroom will be _allowed_ to do... "No. No, if we're going to get away, we can't just walk out. I need you to do this."

"I just think we need to get going."

"Vincent, please " I beg. He sees the fear in my eyes, and nods.

"If he wakes up and goes at you again, you kill him," he says, "quietly, but make sure he's dead. Got it?" I nod once. "I'll be back soon."

"Thank you," I whisper. He comes back inside, and shuts the window silently. We quickly devise a plan to make it appear I'm tied to a chair. I keep my head down, and sob as he opens the door. Someone is passing as he does, so it's a good thing we made the act. Then he shuts the door. I stand up and look through the wardrobe, trying to find the dress that will blend in most.

* * *

**Five years before the Blackout**

_Mark and I dance to another song, though neither of us are enjoying each other. He didn't even really ask me to prom. He just handed me my ticket and made some comment about wearing matching colours. _

_It's not that Mark is a bad boyfriend, necessarily. I mean, I'm sure he could be a good. Just... not for me. I don't know. We've been dating off and on over the last two years. And not once have we said 'I love you' and meant it. And we both know it. I'm not sure why we haven't just broken off completely yet. _

_A few minutes later, prom king and queen are announced. I don't even really pay attention. All I can think about is the fact that Miles and Bass might be home right now. They're not on leave, really, but they've got like a two week vacation or something, and they're just hanging out came home. Bass might be waiting at my house, and I'm here struggling to have fun. I wonder if they've called yet..._

_After we all clap for the king and queen dancing, the music picks up, and everyone starts acting crazy. I melt away from all of it and find my purse. I open my phone to find a text from Miles. 'Bass and I just got home, so see yo soon. Saw your prom pictures by the way. You're gorgeous, but seriously, dump that bastard already.' I smile slightly and look at the next message, from Bass. 'Linds, Miles and I are home! Can't wait to see you. Have a great night! (but seriously, you're still going around with Mark?)' I roll my eyes and tuck my phone back into the small, clutch like bag. _

_"Hey," Mark says behind me, "You wanna get away from this? Go walk in the garden thing?" _

_"Uh, yeah, sure," I agree, and walk out. He takes my hand and we walk through the pretty gardens of the local country club, where the prom is being held. I glance at my phone again._

_"Is your brother home?," Mark asks. _

_"What? Oh, yeah," I shake my head, "only for two weeks, but..."_

_"Oh. Cause I saw him on Facebook earlier today. I just assumed..." I just nod. _

_"It's pretty out," I remark, looking at the crescent moon, and the millions of twinkling stars. "I wish that hadn't hung so many bright lights. They should've stuck to gold. Maybe blue." Our theme is under the sea. Which is pretty much the most generic prom theme ever. _

_"Maybe," he says, and I know he wasn't really listening to me. _

_"Miles and Bass won't be back until the end of August," I say. I think about how long that is. _

_"And then you'll be off to college," he says._

_"That's the plan. What about you? What will you do?"_

_"Probably stay here," he says, "work at my dad's store, maybe go to a community college on the side."_

_"That'd be good," I say softly. "What will you study?"_

_"Dunno. Something I know a lot about. History, I guess."_

_"Well that could be cool," I remark, "we can talk and stuff, see if we're taking similar classes. Ooh, there's this one at Pittsburgh called 'France: the Revolutionary Period', and it covers 1789 to 1864."_

_"Cool," he says absently._

_"Yeah," I try to keep it going, "I think we even analyze certain parts of Les Mis."_

_"Isn't that a musical?"_

_"Based on a book," I say. I've told him this about a dozen times. "Victor Hugo, the author, was actually in the 1832 June Rebellion, which the book is based on. Of course, the actual characters aren't real, but-"_

_"Ok, Linds," he stops me. "I don't really care." _

_"Well, you could've said that instead of just mumbling passive phrases," I snap. He does this all the time. _

_"Well you've gotta quit rambling about stuff no one cares about all the time."_

_"I don't do it all the time."_

_"Ok, well, all I'm saying is I know more about some stuff I don't even want to know about than the things I do."_

_"Well, I'm sorry if I annoyed you by being myself," I quip. We're silent for a while, while I look up at the moon._

* * *

I look in the mirror, twisting my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. Then I look through the wardrobe until I find hair ties and bobby pins and brushes. I brush through my hair and then retwist the bun and put it in place with the pins.

Out of curiosity, I look through the rest of the drawers. There are dresses, blouses, dress pants, bras, underwear, makeup, hair clips, necklaces, everything. They really wanted to dress me up, make me look pretty. So they could stare at me. So the man that's in my bathroom could watch me and _push_ me until I got angry and did something wrong. So that he could make me get in bed with him. So they could humiliate me until I cried, and they'd laugh at me. They'd drink and _watch_ me and touch my arms because they can't do anything else. I've been here before. I hate this. I let out as hot, angry tears come.

After I put on the soft pink dress, I sit on the edge of the bed and think about what would've happened. I'd be here forever. Even if Bass had come back, I'd be here forever. I'd be in this room day in, and day out. Reading those cook books. People watching me as I eat. No one saying anything nice to me, ever. Men calling me a bitch just because they can. It's not the worst thing that can happen, but it's bad.

There's a knock at the door and I jump slightly before Vincent comes in. He's carrying a shopping bag, which he sets on the desk. I just look up at him, my arms still around my knees.

"You ok?," he asks, sifting through the bag. I nod, then realize he's not looking at me.

"Yes. Did everything go ok?"

"Yeah, went fine," he says. "So I got you this hat. They didn't have any sunglasses." He hands the white sunhat to me and I put it on my head.

"This is fine, thank you." I turn away to look out the window as he changes quickly. "How did you get here?," I ask, "Find me? Or anything?"

"When you and the general-"

"Don't call him that," I chuckle, thinking how Scanlon must have gotten every doing that.

"Ok," he laughs, "When you and Monroe never came back, well, your brother and them got pretty worried. Sent out search parties and everything. I saw them taking you here."

"Oh, so Angela," I start, worried, "who has... where's my daughter?"

"She's in the new house," he says. He comes to stand in front of me now that he's dressed. "With Rachel and Dr. Porter. She's good."

"And everyone else?"

"Your brother is having us do it on shifts," he replies, "I was searching with Scanlon, Alex, Marcus, and Connor."

"Where's Miles?"

"At the factory still. That's where everyone except the doc and Rachel are." My eyes widen at that.

"We have to go!," I cry, and open the window.

"Woah, Lindsay, what's happening?"

"That's where they're headed!," I tell him frantically, my mind racing, "Bass was taking them there!"

"Ok," he nods, "ok, we'll go. But Lindsay- slowly. You go to fast, you'll make noise. You gotta be quiet. Got it?" I nod back and we put my tank top and jeans into the shopping bag. He climbs onto the fire escape slowly. Then he checks the area and motions for me to come out. I come out beside him. He puts a finger to his lips and points at the broken ladder. I nod, then freeze as a guard rounds the corner. I quickly point him out to Vincent. He nods and pulls a knife from his belt. Then he chucks it downwards. It hits it's target: right in the Patriot's heart. I breathe in relief as he goes down without a sound. Vincent climbs to the last rung and then hops down to retrieve his weapon. I quickly follow.

* * *

_We're quiet for a long time, walking through the garden, our hands still intertwined. Mark looks at me, as we sit on a little stone bench. _

_"Baby, you know I'm sorry, right?," he asks. "It's just been a long night, and I'm tired."_

_"You don't need to make excuses," I say coolly, "you already made your point."_

_"Linds, c'mon," he whispers, and kisses my cheek, "it's prom night, don't stay mad at me. Let's have fun, like we're supposed to." I just roll my eyes and tell him to shut up. "Hey, c'mon. I love you?" I almost just ignore him, but that seems so rude._

_"Love you too," I mutter, but I don't mean it. He kisses me then, and then some more. I kiss back, but I don't put any meaning into it. His lips move to my neck, and his hand moves around on my thigh. His other hand undoes the topmost button on the back of my dress. _

_"Woah," I pull away, "what are you doing?" _

_"Trying to have fun, Lindsay."_

_"You want to have sex?," I ask, "that's why you... were you even sorry?"_

_"Baby, you know I was."_

_"Yeah? What were you sorry for?"_

_"Linds, c'mon," he ignores the question, "I just want to show you hoe much I love you. Don't you want to prove our love?"_

_"No, I don't!," I say. Really? I know he wants to have sex, has for a while, but this speech. No. No way. His face darkens._

_"You're no fun," he accuses, his voice in my ear, "why can't I show you my love?"_

_"Your love and your dick aren't the same thing, Mark," I say harshly and stand up. "And, maybe I'm not fun. But I don't want to screw you. 'Show you my love' or whatever. Why? Because I don't love you. And don't you dare try to kiss me and bull crap me about how much you love me, because I know it's all lies."_

_"Lindsay, baby-"_

_"Don't call me baby," I snap, "if you want to bang a girl stupid enough to do it just because you say 'I love you', and call her baby, go right ahead. But that girl isn't me."_

_"You know what?," he stands up, "you're right. I don't love you."_

_"Shocker," I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice. _

_"It's over, Lindsay," he snaps, "and you can forget me driving you home."_

_"I'll get a ride," I say, rolling my eyes._

_"From who? Bass?," he asks, then snorts, "fine. Go string him along and bitch to him."_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"You know, Bass Monroe is probably the only guy that wants to put up with you," he snaps, "it makes sense, though. The way he drools when you walk into a room. You don't even have to take off your clothes. You just smile and he's ready to-" I slap him. Because he's treating me like crap. He's talking about me like that. And because he's talking about Bass like that. I just shake my head at him. _

_"Have a nice life, Mark," I say, with a bitter chuckle. After he storms inside, I try to keep the hot tears in, but they come anyway. Why am I even crying? I didn't love him! I pull out my phone and go to my contacts, hitting the name with my thumb, angrily. I put the phone to my ear. It rings only twice. _

_"Hello?," he asks, and I hear his voice for the first time in months._

_"Hey, Miles," I say, and sniff._

_"Are you ok, Linds?"_

_"Yeah, I'm- I'm fine," I say, keeping my tears at bay. "Listen, can you come and pick me up? Prom night with Mark took kind of a turn for the worse."_

_"Yeah, of course," he says, his overly protective big brother voice creeping in, "what did the bastard do?" I hear keys rattle and then an engine start. _

_"I'd rather not tell you over the phone," I say. A door opens and closes, and Miles says something to someone besides me. _

_"Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes. Bass is coming too, if that's ok?"_

_ "That's-that's fine," I say, sniffing again, then I decide I want to see him very badly right now, "that's great."_

* * *

Less than thirty minutes later, Vincent and I are walking behind the buildings. I suggested we get horses. He said it'd be tricky, but I insisted. There's no way we'll catch up to Bass on foot. Vincent assured me that we'd get ti him, because they'd likely have to stop to rest, because they had several people, meaning multiple horses. They'd also probably sleep at night.

"What time is it now?," I ask. He looks up at the sun, and the darkening sky.

"I'd say five, maybe six," he says, "they'll stop soon. We'll find him."

"I know," I say, mostly to humour him. He finds a Patriot soldier leading horses toward somewhere. He tells me to stay where I am. I do and from behind the building I can't see much. I just hear a thud and then he comes back with two horses. He hands the bridle of one to me. I thank him. Then I duck into the allyway and change back into the jeans and tank top. We got through the town pretty easily, so I guess dressing up worked.

When I come out, we mount the horses, and have them walk at a normal pace. As we near the edge of Willoughby, though, I get more and more nervous. I want to run, but I know that would cause a stir. We're still behind buildings, but they'd hear it from town. We start passing city hall, and I breathe easier again. Then I hear the shot.

Vincent swears as a shot ricochettes next to our heads, then twists on his horse. He shouts for me to duck, and I do, my head close to the horses. He fires several times, and then we look forward again. There more soldiers there. We can't shoot them all from here. I turn my horse. Vincent follows and we rush into the town.

"Move!," I scream at the terrified townsfolk. I look behind me and see a soldier almost catching up to Vincent. Wow, he's fast. I aim, but it's hard to keep the aim when the horse is running. I shoot though, and watch him drop. When I look ahead again, I nearly run into a building. I swerve the horse, and race into the ally next to me. I shoot another advancing soldier and then turn a lot of corners.

I'm barely hanging on. I haven't ridden a horse at a run in a while. I start to feel a little sick as we turn all these corners. Then I see a fence, like a little garden fence around a garden. After this, it's a direct line for the trees. I groan and then the horse jumps it. I feel naseous, and my vision blurs as we race into the considerably darker forest. We race without words for a long time.

Finally, Vincent rides ahead of me, and slows to a walk. I pass him as I slow my own horse. I look back at him.

"What are you doing?," I ask.

"The horses can't run all day," he replies, "we gotta pace them."

"We have to catch up to Bass!," I argue.

"Lindsay," he says, as I speed up, and keep my horse going. "Lindsay!" I stop the horse

"We have to get away, and get to him, Vincent!"

"We will!," he says firmly. "But we will waste time by watering the horses every hour if you make them run. I'm not saying we're not in a hurry. I'm just saying, if Patriots sneak up on us, the horses are gonna need the energy to run then, not now. Do you understand?" I just look in the direction we ran from a long time before looking at him again.

"Yes."

"Ok, then, let's go."

...

It's getting dark now. I'm guessing it's around eight. They'll be stopping soon. The horses must be tired. I'm tired. I won't stop though. And Vincent hasn't said anything about stopping. We haven't talked much. He just told me a lot about how everyone is. How Scanlon is fine, and how Angela misses me. How Miles is stressed and won't sleep or eat. And Jason and Connor had another go at each other. He said it was over Charlie. Which I could have guessed, but he also said that it's just because everyone's stressed.

I don't really say much, just kind of nod and laugh with my mouth closed at stuff that's supposed to be funny. My eyes try to droop closed a lot, but I won't let them. It's been such an exhausting day though. I just want to find Bass and get to Angela and hold her and kiss her and tell her I missed her and everything's going to be ok. And then we'll put her to bed after rocking her to sleep. We'll put her in her cradle that I keep saying I'm going to paint. I hope they took that cradle, I kind of need

"Lindsay?," Vincent's voice breaks through my thoughts.

"Did they take Angela's cradle?," I blurt.

"What?," he asks. I glance over at him. His eyes shine bright against the darkness. His dark skin makes only an outline of his figure.

"Wha... nothing, sorry," I shake my head, "what'd you want?"

"You were falling asleep again," he says carefully, "about to fall off the horse."

"Oh."

"Maybe we should stop, take a rest, start again in-"

"No," I cut him off. "We can't do-"

"Lindsay-"

"I said no!," I fire the words at him, "We're not resting. We can't!"

"You're tired, I'm tired-"

"If you're tired, you can stop any time you want. But I'm going to find my husband." I push my horse a little bit faster to make my point.

"They've got it," he says suddenly, quietly.

"Got what?"

"The cradle," he says, "they've got it. After we realized you were in danger, Miles sent Rachel and Dr. Porter to the house with Jason. They loaded a cart up with food, water, and clothes for them and the baby. Then they took the cradle. Everything else they figurwd could wait, but they knew how much that cradle meant to you."

"Oh. Good. Thanks."

"He'll be ok, you know," he says.

"I know."

"They wouldn't kill him, they need him ali-"

"I know, Vincent." He's about to say more when we hear noises. Voices chatting quietly, a foot snapping a twig, metal clinking together, a tent flap opening, horses shuffling... chains rattling. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, counting to ten before I get too excited and overreact. I only get to six. "I'm assuming you hear that?," I whisper. He nods. I slide off the horse silently, keeping my gun at the ready. I hand the reins to Vincent and walk forward, being careful not to snap any twigs. I see lights and I duck behind a tree, then behind another one, getting closer to the lights, the smell of fire, and the sounds. I peek out and take in the scene.

I'm looking at a Patriot camp. There's two tents, and torches lit, circling them and a fire. They're sitting on logs, chatting like it's just another Tuesday to them. Or whatever day it is. They're pouring bottles of wine into metal camping cups, and drinking them profusely. Keamy is drinking straight from the bottle, and telling some sort of story. From the sounds of their suggestive snickering and "ohhhhh"s, and his gestures, it's some sex story. They keep glancing to their right, and snickering. I follow their glances and see a Patriot wagon, the horses of which are tied to a tree with some two other horses. In the bed of that wagon is Bass.

My heart leaps forward and I nearly do too. I grasp at the tree to force myself to stay down and away. Then I notice again how Keamy is telling his explicit story, and they're glancing at Bass, and snickering, and he's glaring at them, and if his hands weren't chained to the wagon, he'd strangle them, and how one of them says, too loudly 'lucky bastard'... and I realize they're talking about me. And that makes me want to be sick.

"I'd say about five," I jump as Vincent crouches down next to me, "six including your husband. What do you think?"

"Um, I'm only counting three," I reply, as quiet as possible, "not including Bass."

"One in the tent," he points and I notice movement inside, "and one just ran off to take a leak. I'll take him, use the knife."

"No, don't," I whisper, gesturing for him to stay down just a bit longer. "I'll go. And I'll use the gun. They'll head my way, then you take out as many as possible. I'll come back and help you sweep up who's left."

"You sure?," he asks.

"I'm sure," I reply. "Just be ready. And don't let anyone shoot Bass." I stand up and run offbin the direction he points to, and run that way. I hear someone walking towards me, and then I see a silhouette. He sees me, and lifts a torch. The second I see the American flag on his arm, I shoot him. In the silence, the sound of the shot rings out very loudly. I hear shouts from the direction of the camp, and then several shots. I run around back to where Vincent was. I see three one person dead and three people alive. Thank God, Bass is one of the alive ones. There's a soldier right next to him by the wagon. Keamy catches sight of Vincent and aims his gun at him.

"Put it down!," he shouts. I run around to the other side of the camp, and then find Bass. I smile at him as he sees me, and put a finger to my lips. His face is blank for the most part, but there's a hint of anger.

"What are you doing here?," he hisses, too loudly. I sigh in frustration. I'm here to save him!

"So the bitch is here, too," Keamy chuckles. I peek around the wagon to see him looking around for me. I don't know how he put it together, but he did. "Come on out, Lindsay." I press the gun into Bass' hand silently, and he puts it against the man's neck next to him.

"Don't move," he growls. Keamy whips a second gun out and aims it at Bass.

"Oh, I'll kill them, Lindsay, you know I will. You'd better get your pretty ass out here."

"Lindsay, don't!," Bass shouts, as if he doesn't know where I am. My head is spinning. I don't know what to do. Vincent has a gun on Keamy, but Keamy has a gun on Vincent and Bass. Bass has a gun on the other soldier.

"Get your ass out here right now," Keamy says in a threatening voice, "or I'm gonna kill your daughter." Even though he doesn't really know where she is, that makes me so angry I almost grab the gun and shoot him. But I don't, because then he could shoot Bass or... wait, where's Vincent? He isn't in Keamy's line if fire anymore. It's all silent. Then there's a loud "woo", like someone cheering on their favourite football team.

"WOOOOOO!," it shouts again. Bass looks at me and I shrug, shaking my head, my mouth trying to form words. "Woo, go Lindsay!" I smile slightly as I recognize the voice.

"Who's there?," Keamy demands.

"So the thing is," Scanlon says, coming into the clearing, "you kind of just threatened my best friend's baby. And that pretty much writes you a death sentence in my book."

"You touch me, I'll shoot him," Keamy snaps. Then screams as a bullet flies straight through the hand that pointed a gun at Bass. The gun fires, but at nothing but the ground. He fires at what he thinks is Vincent, but is really nothing. Then, Bass shoots the soldier next to him, and points the gun at Keamy.

"I ain't surrendering," he says.

"Well, ok," Scanlon says civilly, "but if you kill us, you won't find our camp and you're gonna go back empty handed. Which makes you a loser. If there's on think I've learned about you morons is you don't like losers... what do you think they'll do to you?"

"Cause you're just gonna show me where your camp is?"

"No, of course not," he chuckles, drinking some wine from the metal cup near him. "But I'm not gonna kill you. You can just run off, hide, and, well, live. Can you say the same for your bosses?" His look doesn't change, but Keamy can tell the situation has slipped from his control. I stand up while he's still looking at Scanlon. I take the gun from Bass.

"Hey, Keamy!," I call. The second he turns, I fire twice, once at his chest, then at his head. When he drops, I walk over and fire again, just to be sure. I look over at Scanlon. "You said you weren't killing him. I never made any promises."

"Well, I was lying anyway," he chuckles. I kneel down and search Keamy's pockets until I find what I'm looking for: the key. I stand and walk over to Bass. I unlock his cuffs, and he jumps down. Immediately, I pull him to me and press my lips to his. We kiss for a long while, and then he pulls away.

"You were amazing," he says.

"It wasn't even me, really," I shrug. I check him for injury. He's slightly bruised on his face, but otherwise fine. I step back, but keep a hand in his. "Ok, who else is here?" Connor, Marcus, Vincent, and Alex come out from the woods. Scanlon shrugs and hugs me.

"That was hot," he says in my ear. I chuckle and push him away. Connor gives me a pat on the shoulder.

"Wow, seven months without getting captured," he remarks, "that might be your new record, Linds."

"I'll try and break it," I laugh.

"So, what's the plan, dad?," he asks Bass.

"Well, it's late, bodies need buried," he shrugs, "I say we camp here. Vincent, Linds, there's a tent for each of you. Go sleep while we do the dirty work. We'll do watch in turns."

"Oh, General," Scanlon says and glances at me, "I don't know if-"

"It's fine," I say, "I trust him. And all of you."

"Alright, let's get to work," Bass calls. They all disperse, and he looks at me. "I'll be in later, ok?" I kiss him again.

"I love you," I murmur.

"I love you too," he smiles. Then he walks away. I go into the tent that Vincent didn't take and nearly fall onto the sleeping bag, my eyes closing.

...

My eye open, not quickly, but not slowly either. I think I heard something. I reach across Bass' bare chest to grab the gun. But it wakes him up.

"What's up?," he mumbles. I start getting dressed, pulling on my jeans and belt. "What's going on?"

"You're a light sleeper," I remark, pulling on a shirt.

"That's mine," he chuckles. I realize the V does go too deep, for a female's body.

"Go to sleep, Bass," I say, and tie my boots.

"Linds, what's going on?"

"I heard something," I say.

"Oh," he says, and hurries to get dressed.

"No, Bass, I got it," I insist, already on my way out.

"Let me go."

"No. I'm not going to sit in here and wait to get captured. If you want to come, fine, but I am going."

"Ok, alright," he agrees. We come out of the tent, he still bare chested because I'm wearing his shirt, and walk around. Bass hears something and goes off in that direction.

It's surprisingly bright out here. The moon is full, and there's lots of stars. I hear an owl hoot, and water run somewhere not too far off. Crickets chirp and grass rustles. Above me, bats and fireflies block out and add to the stars. It's so pretty out.

"You know," a voice says softly, "I don't normally agree with psychopaths, but he's right. You were amazing today." I look over at whoever it is in confusion. Then I nearly faint. No! This is impossible! No! How?

"Garrett?," I ask in a weak voice. He's standing in front of me.

"Hey, Linds," he smiles. "How've you been?"

"Garrett?," I repeat, "but... how..."

"Lindsay?," I jump as Bass calls me. I turn to face him. "It was just Connor. He snapped a twig while doing watch." I don't say anything, but look back to Garrett. But he's gone. I look around but he's gone completely. "Linds, you ok?" I'm tired. I'm stressed. It's been a long day. I haven't slept well for a couple days. The adrenaline wearing off. I didn't actually see Garrett. My head's just been in overload lately. It's nothing. "Lindsay?" He's behind me now.

"I'm fine," I assure him, turning. "Just shooken up from today."

"You sure?"

"I'm alright," I say, "let's just go back to bed."

"Ok...," he says, a bit uncertainly. I nod in assurance and we walk back to our tent and lay down. I squeezs my eyes shut. I'm going to wake up in the morning and feel so stupid. I'm just so tired. It's fine. Everything's fine.


	9. Trade Mistakes

"You sure you're ok?," Bass asks, as we sort out the stuff we want to take and the stuff we don't. We decided not to take the cart. We have six horse now, so if I ride with Bass, everyone can get a horse. "You were really shooken up last night?" I stay quiet for a second, as I pat the horse's light brown man.

"I'm fine," I say finally, "I was just tired, and under a lot of stress."

"Really?," he asks, worried.

"Yes," I say, and kiss him lightly, "I'm ok. Let's just go home and see Angela, alright?"

"Alright," he says, finally. We climb up onto the horse and he calls out, "ok, boys, let's move out."

* * *

**Four years before the Blackout**

_The room starts to get crowded, making me glad I got here early. It's Intro to Cultural Anthropology, the one class I have with Rachel. We sit towards the middle of the room, and wait for the class to start. _

_"This seat taken?," someone asks. I look up from my conversation with Rachel to see a kid around her age, a mop of untamed, long curly hair atop his head. _

_"Um, no," I say awkwardly, letting the hair I was twisting fall. "No, go ahead." He nods in thanks and sits down next to me. I turn back to Rachel, pushing my reading glasses up my nose. We continue talking, and the guy calls me again. _

_"I hate to do this," he starts, "but can I borrow a piece of paper?" I give him an odd look. He has a laptop, I can see it. And even if he wants to take written notes, he'll likely need more than just one piece. But I get one out and hand it to him. "Thanks."_

_"No problem," I assure him._

_"My name is Scanlon, by the way," he offers a hand. I take it out of politeness. _

_"Lindsay," I reply, thinking that Scanlon is an odd name. "Do you have a first name or..."_

_"Uh, I do, but I prefer Scanlon," he says. Rachel chuckles next to me. _

_"This is Rachel, by the way," I point to her, "my roommate."_

_"Nice to meet you," he says quickly then turns back to me, "so, gen. ed. classes suck, am I right?"_

_"Uh, I guess," I look around awkwardly. _

_"Look, I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable," he says._

_"I just don't... talk much..."_

_"Oh, that's bull," Rachel snickers. I chuckle._

_"I don't talk much to people I don't know," I correct._

_"Well, then how do you make friends? Were your only friends growing up your siblings?"_

_"Siblings and Bass," Rachel smirks._

_"So there's a boyfriend," he notes. I huff and shake my head. _

_"No, there's not. But please, leave me alone." He does so, probably only because the class starts. _

_..._

_An hour and a half later, as we're all packing up, Scanlon taps me on the shoulder. I turn around. _

_"Yes?," I ask, maybe too rudely. Maybe I'm being too mean. _

_ "I just wanted to give you your paper back," he hands it to me, folded now. I stare at him. "I only said I wanted to borrow it." Then he walks away. Iook down at the paper, and open it. Right above the crease is a ten digit number._

* * *

I lift my head from Bass' back and look over his shoulder. I finally see the factory. We'd been traveling since sun up, and I'm so ready to see my brother again. But I haven't had anything to think about except that weird dream I had last night. I don't know why the hell I dreamed about Garrett. I mean, I have before, but those were nightmares, visualizing his death. Or memories of me leaving him in Jasper. I've never had one that was so surreal. I note again that I see the factory.

"Bass, go faster," I urge. "It's so close." He chuckles.

"Almost there, Linds." We ride some more. We get closer when we hear someone.

"Stop right there," they call. Then two guys, Derek and Jamie, come out of the trees. They stop short when they see us.

"Well, I'll be damned," Jamie says in disbelief. "We figured you were dead."

"Well, thanks," Bass mutters.

"Where's my brother," I call from behind him.

"Probably about to kill your niece," Derek chuckles. I give him a questioning look. "Go see for yourself, he's inside."

"Thanks," I murmur and slide off the horse. I head inside and hear Charlie's voice, coming from upstairs.

"Miles, no- stop!," she shouts, "you need to sleep."

"What I need, kid," he snaps, "is to find my sister."

"And you can," she says, as I walk up the steps, "later. You have shifts for a reason."

"Charlie, she is my sister!," he says, _"my_ sister. _My_ responsibility. I have to go find her."

"You've been looking for days," she says softly, "you're drinking, you need to sleep. You're no use to anyone when you're getting drunker every minute you're awake."

"I'm fine, Charlie," he insists. I start looking in the rooms.

"You gotta sleep."

"Do you know who's fault it is?!," he shouts, "if she gets killed? Or hurt? Or if someone ra... I promised her I wouldn't let anyone do that to her again, Charlie. It is my fault if someone holds her down and takes advantage of her. _My_ fault. So I need to find her. I'm fine, I just need to-"

"You are now. But when you're too drunk to ride a horse? When you're vision gets blurred and you can't see anything?" I open a door and see them.

"Charlie-"

"She's right," I call. They spin around. "You can't kill yourself trying to save me every-" the air flies out of my lungs as he crushes me with a hug.

"Lindsay," is all he says.

"Hey, Miles," I chuckle, trying to breathe. He pulls away, but doesn't let go.

"Oh my G...," he takes a deep breath, running a hand over his face, "are you ok?"

"I'm ok," I reply. "I escaped and I'm ok."

"What did they... did. they do anything to you?"

"No," I shake my head, "they tried. But no, I'm fine. I'm ok."

"Oh my God," he breathes again, and kisses the top of my head.

"It's ok," I assure him, "I'm ok." I pull away, only so I can hug Charlie.

"Hey," she says, "good to see you."

"You too," I smile. I settle back and look at them both. "So, how's my baby?"

...

I walk out to find Bass, about an hour later. I've said hello, and assured everyone I'm fine. Miles says we can move out tomorrow morning, because it'll be dark in a few hours. I kept thinking about Garrett. But I kept a straight face and nodded and didn't cry. Because if I cry, he'll get worried again. Then he'll insist on staying here longer, until I'm more stable. But I need to go tomorrow. I want to go now. I want to see my daughter. My daughter is five days away.

"Hey, you," Bass says, as he sees me. He puts his hands on my waist and pulls me closer to him.

"Hey," I murmur.

"So, listen," he says, "we're moving out tomorrow. And I'm thinking we should go through our stuff here, decided what we want to take."

"Ok," I agree, "that sounds like a good idea. But, um, I am really tired now. I know I should be focusing on this... but I need to, just..." Why can't I form words?

"It's alright," he assures me, "go ahead and take a nap. You want me to come with you?"

"No, that's alright," I shake my head, "stay down here, relax, have a drink." I pull away, and then add quickly, "but just one, ok?"

"Yeah, sure, hey," he calls, as I start to leave. turn back around. His brow is creased heavily with worry. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I say, "I'm just tired, and nauseous and just... you know, post capture jitters. Normal stuff for me."

"Lindsay-"

"I'm fine, Bass," I say, maybe too quickly. "I'm fine. Please, just... let me sleep. I'm tired."

"Ok," he says, backing off, "ok, I'm sorry. I'll see you later, ok?" I nod and stumble my way to our room, my thoughts drifting back to Garrett. It was a dream! I tell myself again and again. It was just another crazy dream. But I haven't had one that real in a very long time. And I know the whole Bass and I getting up thing did happen. So I don't know if I dreamed an extented version of that or I was just really tired and imagined it or what. I'm confused. I reach our room and crawl into the familiar bed that smells like Bass on one side and me on the other. I grab the pillow that smells like him and try to fall asleep.

* * *

_ "He so has a crush on you," Rachel chuckles, as we walk back to the dorm building. _

_"You think?," I ask sarcastically, "Yeah, he gave me his number." I hold up the paper and show her. She takes it and laughs._

_"Ha! What's his name again?"_

_"Scanlon."_

_"No, I mean his first name."_

_"Um," I sigh, taking off my glasses and putting them in my bag, "he wouldn't tell me." She chuckles again._

_"You should call him," she says._

_"What?!," I ask in disbelief, "you're insane, Rachel."_

_"C'mon," she says, sipping her latte, "you haven't had a date in... wow, ever."_

_"Excuse me," I scoff, "I got out of a long relationship at the end of senior year. I'm well within the normal time range."_

_"Oh, so this is a Bass thing," she says, with a coy smile._

_"No, it's not," I defend, "Why would you say that?"_

_"Uh, because- wait," she says, looking at me, "you weren't dating Bass." _

_"No, I was dating someone else," I reply, "Bass and I have never- wait. You thought Bass and I were..." she starts laughing._

_"Oh my God," she giggles, "Sorry. It's just... the way you talk about him, and to him, and... haha! I thought you guys were in some awkward 'still trying to be friends' thing."_

_"No!," I reassert. _

_"Ok, sorry," she says again, "so why won't you call Scanlon?"_

_"Because I don't want to," I shrug, "he's not my type and I'm not looking for a relationship." _

_"Ok, my bad," she allows. We walk in silence for a minute. Then she says:_

_"It's totally a Bass thing."_

* * *

_I can't see anything, but I feel the blindfold, tied too tight around my head. They open a door and everything goes considerably darker. I'm pushed onto my knees as I smell peppermint. _

_"That's far enough," a cool voice says. I want to scream. I want to scream for Bass or for Miles or from anyone who will save me from this man. The blindfold is ripped from my head and I see Edward Truman before me. I can't look at him, so I look at the floor. He grabs my chin and looks me in the eye. "Hi, Lindsay." I scream in surprise as he grabs my handcuffed wrists and pulls me up the stairs and into a bedroom. He throws me onto the bed, and turns to lock the door. _

_I try to push myself up, my hands clumsy as they're so close together. Finally, I manage to get off the bed and run towards the window. He catches me around the waist and pushes me back to the bed. _

_"No!," I scream, trying to get away. He's angrier. He's so much angrier than the last time I saw him. When Bass killed him. He can't be here! _

_"You thought you could get away from me?!," he roars. There's a blinding pain and a sickening crunch as he punches me in the nose, "you bitch! You are mine! You have no right to leave me!"_

_"Stop, stop, stop!," I beg, trying to push him away. "You're not real, stop!" He laughs, and knees me in the gut. I cry out in pain. He grabs my arms and loops some rope through the chain of the cuffs and ties it to the headboard. "Please! You can't be..."_

_"I am real, Lindsay," he laughs, "I'm real. And you are a stupid bitch you for some reason thought you could get away. Well, you were wrong. You're mine. I own you. And, now, finally, I get to do whatever the hell I want with you." _

_"No! Please!," I keep screaming and he keeps punching. He tears off my clothes, and touches me all over. I cry out in pain as he moans my name. "I'm begging you. Please, leave me alone!" Truman doesn't answer, but forces his lips onto mine, and pulls my hips against his. I scream for someone, anyone to help me. _

_"Shut up!," he shouts._

_"Help!," I beg. He stands up, only for a moment to remove his own clothes. I look around desperately, trying to find something to help me. In the corner, I see something- someone- looking horrified and angry. "Bass?," I ask weakly. They step into the light and I don't see my husband. I see Garrett._

_"I'm sorry, Lindsay," he whispers. I try to form words, but then Truman is back on top of me, and Garrett is gone, and I'm screaming, and he's whispering in my ear but I don't understand him. I'm in pain and Garrett was dead. Truman was dead! He's still hurting me. It hurts so much!_

I bolt up, letting out a shriek. My face is wet with tears and sweat. I look around the dark room, desperate for something that will remind me that I'm safe, that Truman is dead. I find nothing and grab my leg, sobbing into the skin on my knees.

"Lindsay?," his voice comes again. I snap my head up and fumble with the lantern next to me. I get it lit and set it on the table. Sure enough, I see Garrett.

"I'm dreaming again," I say out loud.

"No, you're not," he says.

"Yes, I am!" I say, louder, "Garrett, you're dead. You died!"

"I know," he removes his hands from his pockets to lift them in caution, "Linds, I know I did. But I'm here now, so-"

"So what you're a ghost?!," I demand.

He sighs. "Not exactly. It's more like-" he's interrupted by a knock. I go and open the door.

"Hey," Bass says, "are you ok?"

"Yeah, just um... bad dream," I shrug, "I'm fine."

"Well, can I come in?," he asks with a slight chuckle.

"Oh, yeah," I say and open the door. He walks in and lights some more candles. I look around and Garrett is gone. "What..."

"What?," Bass asks. I just stare open mouthed at the spot Garrett was. "Linds, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I shake my head, "I told you. Bad dream. I'm fine."

"Truman again?," he asks. I nod and sit with him on the bed, our backs against the wall. "I'm sorry, Linds."

"It's ok," I say, "It was just... the house I was in... smelled like him and it was easy to see him... there."

"He's dead," Bass says, "just remember that, alright? He's gone." Well so was Garrett... "Linds-"

"I'm fine."

"You said that already."

"I know. But-but I am! Dammit, Bass, I am! I'm fine!," I stand up and just stand there. I want to bang my head against the wall. "I'm fine! I had a dream, that's it! I'm fine!"

"Ok, I don't know what's going on," he says, hands up in surrender, "but just calm down, ok? It's ok." I feel like I need to run, get away. But I can't. I can't get away from being crazy. He reaches me and starts to lower his hands, "what's going on, Lindsay?"

"Dammit, Bass, I'm crazy!," I cry, falling against him and sobbing, "I'm certifiably insane."

"No, you're not," he murmurs, "it's ok to have nightmares, Lindsay."

"But they're so real," I insist, "I can feel his hands on me, I can feel the bruises he left behind, I can see..." I can see Garrett. I can see people that aren't there. That can't be!

"What can you see?," he asks, gently. I don't want to tell him about Garrett. I know I'm crazy, and he probably knows it to, despite what he says. But to tell him I'm seeing dead people? It makes it real. I mean, who's to say I wasn't dreaming. That's it. I was just dreaming.

"Forget it," I murmur, "they're just dreams."

"Lindsay, if you-"

"No, just drop it," I insist, "they're just nightmares, alright? I'm fine. I'm ok."

...

I sit next to Bass in the cart. Miles is driving it, and Charlie is sitting next to him. We've been on the road for about half a day now. We set it up so that two people drive the cart, and four people can sit in the back. There are four carts, five horses not including the ones driving said carts, and about forty people. We switch who rides, walks, and drives at intervals.

For now I'm sitting in the back of a cart with Bass, on the mant blankets we cushioned it with. He's holding my hand, but we haven't spoken much. He's worried about me. But I don't want to talk about it. But the silence is killing me.

"How do you think Angie is?," I ask quietly.

"I'm sure she's fine," he says and kisses my head, "Rachel will be taking good care of her."

"I know," I murmur, "I cant the wait to see her."

"Neither can I," he says with a smile.

"And we actually have a house now," I add.

"That's right," he agrees. "And a hospital. You excited?"

"Of course," I say. Then my smile falls. "Let's just hope they don't find it too."

"We'll be ok," is all he says. He kisses my hair as he gets out a canteen. He turns it upside down to show that it's empty. "Hey, Miles? Think we can stop for water?"

"Can't you wait?," he asks.

"Oh, c'mon," Charlie says, "horses could use it too." Miles sighs, but stops the cart. He pulls out his gun and goes to look for water.

"There's a stream over this way," he says. "I want five people with the carts. The rest, come on over, then we'll switch up." In the end, there's so much grumbling over who's going to stay first, that I volunteer to do it. Bass joins that, and then Miles, Charlie, and Jason. Connor decides to stay with us. Bass and I get out of the cart and stretch our legs and he comes to stand next to us.

"Hey," he greets.

"Hi, Connor," I reply, stretching. "How are you?"

"Could be better," he mutters. His eyes look over to Charlie and Jason. They're standing against the cart next to us, laughing as he says something. I look back at Connor and smile.

"Still not taking them well?," I ask. He shrugs.

"Well, kid," Bass chuckles, "she made her choice. I think you need to make one."

"Charlie's the only girl that isn't married to my dad or, well, Rachel." Bass laughs.

"What's wrong with Rachel?," I ask, also laughing.

"She's nice and all," he pauses, "actually, no, that's not true. She's not really nice at all. Not to me. Besides, she's twice my age."

"She is not twice your age," Bass says, "shut up, you're making me feel old."

"Well, the point is, I'm not interested in Rachel, so Charlie's really my only option here."

"That doesn't make you entitled to her," I say, turning to face him, "I understand that there's no other girls here, but that doesn't mean Charlie is obliged to being with you."

"I didn't say that," he says, "I'm just saying, it's hard not to be jealous."

"Ok," I allow. We wait a few minutes, and then the others come back and we head to the creek.

"He likes her," Bass says to me. I chuckle and we kneel by the water to refill the canteen. I look up and see Charlie and Jason kissing.

"I think it's sweet."

"What?"

"Them. Charlie and Jason. They never really got to have a relationship. Well, they kind of did. But not very long. It ended when Miles closed the door on him and his dad at... at the Tower." Neville. At the Tower. Where my baby died. I shake my head and silently finish refilling things.

"I'm gonna go talk to Miles," he says softly. I nod, and he gets up. I stand up, leaning against a tree. I wait for a second, until it's quiet. Then I get the feeling Garrett is going to show up. But he doesn't. I sigh in relief. It was nothing. Just a dream. That's it. Bass comes back over and we head back. Bass and I are walking this time. I kiss him, and he smiles.

"Four days left," I murmur. He chuckles, and shrugs.

"It's worth it."

...

**Four days later...**

I nearly hop off the cart as the red house become visible. Bass chuckles. We're driving it right now. It's been the longest four days of my life and I want to see my baby. He stops the cart, and takes my hand. Rachel steps onto the front porch.

"Rachel!," I cry, letting go, and hug her.

"Oh, my God," she says, squeezing me back, "I thought you were dead."

"Rachel, no," I whisper, "the way we left things... Rachel, no matter what I do, I still want you to be my friend. I have a husband, yeah, but I need a friend sometimes too, you know?"

"I know," she murmurs, and pulls away. She looks me over once. "No scratches too bad?"

"No," I shake my head. I look around her into the window. "Can I see Angela?"

"She's napping right now," she says.

"But... it's been so long!," I say, looking around for Bass. He makes his way toward me.

"What's going on?," he asks, taking my hand.

"Angie is sleeping right now," Rachel says.

"Oh," he looks angry for a second, "Linds, listen. She's asleep, alright? You gotta let her sleep." I just stand there. Finally, I nod.

"Ok," I nod, and turn to Rachel, "I'm sorry I-"

"Don't worry about it," she smiles. After a few seconds, she sees something over our shoulders, "Miles." She walks toward him. Bass runs a finger down my arm.

"Hey, Linds?"

"Yeah?," I ask, turning to face him. The air is whooshed out of my lungs as he lifts me up in his arms. "Bass!," I giggle, "what the hell are you-"

"Never got to walk you through the door of our new house," he says, "welcome to our new house." I laugh as he gets us inside. I turn to face him and bring his face closer to mine, kissing him passionately.

"Which one is ours?," I ask, between kisses. "Which bedroom?"

"Last on the left," he says, and goes back to kissing my neck. We stumble and get into the room. He lets go of me so I can strip my clothes. I lay on the bed and wait while he closes the door. "You know, they'll be coming to find-," he turne and sees me on the bed, "woah."

"Shut up and come here," I laugh. He laughs and nearly jumps onto the bed, kissing my lips, then my cheek, my chin, my neck, my shoulders, downwards, downwards... all the while, my hands grip onto his back, then I undo his belt, and start taking his shirt off over his head. He kneels on the bed to take off his pants, and a few minutes later, we're glad Angela was sleeping.

...

Bass chuckles as he traces the shape of my face. He's holding my naked body tightly against him, and I'm very content here.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, "you are amazing and you're beautiful."

"Thank you," I say softly, "you too. I love you."

"I love you too." There's a knock at the door, and then it opens.

"Hey, guys, An- oh my God!," Miles turns away as we cover up. "Angela is awake. Dear God," he close the door, but I can still hear him, "think they'd wait twenty minutes..." I smile and turn to Bass.

"Be right back."

"No, wait," he stands up, "let me go get her. You just stay here and get dressed." I agree and he hurries to put his clothes back on. The door shuts and I dress myself too. After I'm done, I sit on the bed and comb my hair with my fingers.

"Is Angela your kid?," Garrett asks. I bolt up and look around. He's standing in the corner, his hands in his pockets, looking so much like Garrett, it hurts.

"Who are you?," I whisper.

"I'm Garrett, remember? I used to live in Jasper, I fell in live with you-"

"You said you're not a ghost," I interrupt, "then what are you?"

"I'm me," he replies.

"Why can't Bass see you?"

"I'm not here for him, "he says.

"And you're here for me?"

"Yes."

"Why? What does that mean?" The door opens, and Bass walks in, holding Angela.

"And here's mommy!," he says to her. She squeals and reaches for me. I shake my head and curse my over active imagination asbhe hands her to me.

"Hey, Angie," I coo, "hey, baby girl. How are you?" She shouts a random string of syllables. "Oh, really?," I ask her. Bass chuckles and comes over to play with her. When I look up, Garrett is still there, glaring at Bass. He looks at me.

"She's cute, Lindsay," he says, "be cuter if she didn't have his hair." I give him a look and set her down to play.

"I'm going to get sone candles, ok?," I ask Bass, and walk out. I go to the carts and sift through the supplies, looking for candles. I make sure no one's around and then turn to face Garrett. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I think a better question is," he says, "why is he still in the picture?"

"He being my husband?"

"Your- your husband? You married him?"

"Yes," I say, refusing to feel guilty about it, despite his tone. "Seven months ago."

"I can't believe this," he spits, "that bastard hits you, knocks you around, rapes you... and you marry him?!"

"You could never understand this," I shake my head, "not while you were alive and apparently not when you're dead either."

"What's that?"

"He's changed!," I insist. Garrett snorts. "Who are you? Really? Why are you here?"

"I'm here for y-"

"No! Don't give me that crap," I insist, "Why now? Who sent you?"

"Linds, just-"

"You're not real," I whisper, "I'm crazy. There's no one here."

"Yes, there is, Linds," he says softly. He touches my face but I push his hand away. He's solid. Like a person. A real person. "I'm right here."

"I don't believe you," I whisper, and turn away. He catches my arm and I turn back around. Then he kisses me. Not roughly but still, I slap him. "Don't touch me."

"Lindsay, I'm sorry."

"I am married. I'm married to a man I love. Don't you dare touch me again." I start to walk away.

"But you felt it, right?," he calls. Of course I felt it! It felt like the other times he's kissed me.

"I don't care if you're real or not," I say slowly, "I don't want to see you again." I carry the candles back into our room and set them around, then light them. Bass looks up from playing blocks with Angela.

"Hey," he says, "you ok? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine, why would you ask?"

"You're crying," he says. I touch my hand to my cheeks and shrug.

"That's weird. I'm alright." He gives me a look, so I sit down and play with Angie, "Hey, Ang. You and daddy playing blocks?"

...

Bass walks back in and closes the door. He blows out some of the candles before coming to lay next to me in bed.

"Linds, what's up?"

"Nothing," I lie, putting the book down. "I'm fine."

"Lindsay, you've been crying, looking scared, I don't know what's up."

"I told you, I'm stressed is all," I reply, extinguishing the candle next to me. "Just drop it." I lay down and turn to my side. He speaks to me over my shoulder.

"I'm not going to drop it," he says. Tears fill my eyes and I can't help the sob that escapes my throat. "Lindsay-"

"I'm scared, Bass, alright? These nightmares are realistic on a completely different level and it's terrifying me."

"Lindsay-"

"I don't know what to do," I whisper.

"Just lay here with me," he says, "it's ok. Let me save you in your nightmares. I'm here. I won't even sleep if you don't want me to. As long as you're safe."

"You have to sleep, Bass."

"Not until you are," he insists. He kisses my ear. "I love you."

"I love you too," I say, my voice strengthening.


	10. Strangers

Bass' lips work against mine as he presses me against the red bricks of the wall. I laugh as he murmurs things to me. His kisses move to my collarbone, and I move my hands up, under his shirt. He kisses my neck.

"Do you guys ever stop?," a voice calls. We look over to see Charlie smirking, her arms crossed. "I mean, seriously, get a room."

"What do you want, kid?," Bass asks, pulling his shirt down.

"Gene wants to see her over at the hospital," she nods to me. "And I've gotta go find Miles up there. I'm leaving now. So c'mon."

"Be there in a second," I promise. She walks away and I turn to Bass. "Angela will be up any time now, so don't go anywhere far. Love you." I start to walk away but our hands are still intertwined.

"Hey," he calls, not letting go, "you playing nurse now?"

"Mm, a little," I shrug, smiling with my tongue between my teeth. He pulls me back to him.

"That's hot," he says, and kisses me again. I giggle and kiss him back.

"Dear God," Charlie calls, on a cart now, "Lindsay, come _on!"_ I take a few more seconds and then pull away.

"Gotta go," I murmur. I climb up on the cart next to Charlie and she starts driving it away.

"Can I see the nurse act later?," he asks, running next to the cart.

"Sure," I tease, "if you can be a brain surgeon."

"Mm," he pretends to think about it, "nah, too hard. We'll just have sex." I laugh.

"Works for me," I shrug, "love you, see you later."

"Love you too," he smiles. I turn back around as he recedes into a little, tiny dot.

"Could you guys be any more disgusting?," Charlie asks with a chuckle.

"Oh, excuse me for being in love with my husband," I reply, laughing. "Besides, what about you and Jason?"

"What about us?," she asks.

"Well, you're together enough to make Connor jealous," I point out.

"Trust me, it doesn't take much to make Connor jealous," she snorts.

"Well, even so," I say, "you guys are just as disgusting."

"Yes, well, we're young," she defends, "we're supposed to be dumb and reckless."

"Are you calling me old?," I ask, in mock rudeness.

"You said it, not me," she jokes. I nudge her and laugh.

"Rude."

"C'mon, you know I'm kidding," she chuckles, "all joking aside, I am happy for you, annoying as it may be."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she shrugs, "you're happy. You've been through hell again and again. But now, you get to be happy and raise a family... it's nice. At least someone gets to do it."

"We all get to do it," I argue, "you're all my family."

"Yeah, but you know what I mean," she says, "you have a baby. And that child has a mom and a dad… I just feel like that hasn't happened in a long time for anyone. I mean, Jason, yeah. But his relationship with his parents has never been...," she sighs, "and then you've got me. I just fixed things with my mom, and the rest of my family is..." she trails off.

"If Angela was a boy," I say quietly, "we were going to name him Danny."

"Monroe was ok with that?," she asks. I sigh, thinking about how she still calls Bass 'Monroe'.

_"Monroe_ just wanted me to be happy," I reply, "so, yes, he was ok with that. I wanted to name him Danny because Danny was... well, I never really knew him, but I bet he was..." I don't know what to say. I don't want to say the wrong thing.

"Danny was smart," she says for me, keeping her eyes ahead, "not my mom smart, or my dad. He didn't know the stuff they know. But he was intelligent, smarter than me. We'd, uh, we'd go hunting, and... he was never a really good tracker, but he'd say things, do things that just made me think 'wow, this kid is smart'. Maggie used to say he'd make a hell of a doctor."

"Your dad would've loved that," I say softly.

"He would've been proud," she agrees. "Yeah, he would've been...," her voice shakes a little, "he was brave too. But, I think you know that. I mean, anyone who was there... that day... knows that. But the little things... the day to day things. He was brave. He'd say whatever he wanted. People picked on him, cause he wasn't very strong. But, he didn't care, he said what he thought. Things other people wouldn't. And I miss that."

"I know you do," is all I can say.

"I'm sorry, Lindsay," she says suddenly, as we pull up in the shadow of the huge structure, "I know you're going to say it's not my fault. But I'm sorry this all happened to you. If I hadn't come into your bar, your home, and ripped you away from your life-"

"I _had_ no life," I interrupt her, "In Chicago. I could barely step outside, I was so scared. Every time someone talked to me, I froze up. I was a mess, Charlie. And yes, bad things happened when I left. Unfair things. Things are not your fault, or my fault. Some of them were Bass' fault. I'm never going to pretend he's innocent. But I am happy now. I have a family, now. I got to see my mother again before she died. I got to grow and not be scared anymore. I got to have a baby," my voice cracks, "I got to have a child who I love more than anything. I got to meet you... Bad things have happened. But good ones have happened too.

* * *

**Two years before the Blackout**

_I've been home for two days, and I want to go back to Pittsburgh already. I mean, I love my family, and my childhood home in Jasper. But every time I come home from college, I start missing the city like crazy. It's worse when it's just me, mom, and dad. Ben and Rachel are staying home with their daughter, Charlie. She's almost three now. _

_God, Ben and Rachel happened so fast. One minute, she and Miles are all goggly eyed at each other. The next, Ben flirts with her. And then, I blink, and I'm the maid of honour at their wedding, Miles the best man. Crazy. _

_I'm happy for them, but I miss Rachel being my roommate. After year one went so well, we planned on getting an apartment together. She wanted to take her time with college, while Ben sped through classes, and skipped semesters faster than Miles and Bass left for the Marines._

_They're coming home tonight. I'm so excited. Bass' parents have gotten better. They and Angela are at my house now, making a welcome home cake. I click the next page on my laptop to make the icing, as Angela moves the dirty dishes out of the way. _

_"Thanks," I say quietly. _

_"Oh, sure," she says, running the sink. She chuckles. "Think this will stay the same?"_

_"What?"_

_"Us," she says, "our families. You and me always making cakes for our brothers." _

_"I hope so," I smile. "How's Cyn?"_

_"She's at home," she replies, "still unpacking."_

_"Is she liking college?"_

_"She likes the city," she shrugs, "school... not so much." I chuckle._

_"I feel that," I say, "and you? How was freshmen year?"_

_"Good," she says, "it was good. Did you like your sophomore year?"_

_"I did," I answer, "probably my second favourite year, after senior year. You'll be fine."_

_"Have I told you hiw awesome you are?," she asks._

_"What?," I ask, laughing._

_"You're, like, the coolest person I know," she says, "it used to be my sister, but she's different. Moodier."_

_"Trust me, everyone's like that after their first year of college," I point out. "She'll come around. But thanks. I like you too."_

_"Thanks," she grins, "hey, would you mind making the cake for my fifteenth birthday? You're really good at this, and I'll pay you or whatever..."_

_"Oh, God, no, don't do that," I wave it off._

_"Oh, sorry, I just thought-"_

_"What? Oh! No, no, no, no," I say quickly, "I'll do it, I'd love to do it. I just meant don't pay me. It'd be my pleasure." I put the icing into the fridge. _

_"Oh, Lindsay, it's no problem-"_

_"Ang, come on," I laugh, "we're friends, practically sisters. Do not pay me to make a cake." _

_"You really think of me as your sister?," she asks, hopefully._

_"Of course, we basically are."_

_"Well, you and Cynthia, maybe, but me-"_

_"I grew up with two brothers," I say, "tack on Bass... I could use a sister. Or two." She laughs._

_"Thanks, Linds," she says sincerely._

_"Of course," I nod, "so, are you having your party the same day, or..."_

_"Uh, no party, really," she says, "just family, cake, presents... and my brother will be there. I was so worried he wouldn't be." _

_"Well, I bet he's thrilled about that himself."_

_"Yeah, and I thought we might go see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, part 1, next week or so."_

_"Oh my God, I keep forgetting you like Harry Potter!," I squeal, glad to have something in common, "you've read the books, right?"_

_"Uh, of course!," she says. _

_"Wow," I sigh, pulling out a bottle and wine glasses, "want to go drink sparkling grape juice, pretend it's wine, and talk about what a huge dick Dumbledore and how he totally screwed over Snape?"_

_ "Uh, always!," she says, stressing the word heavily in reference _

* * *

I walk into the reception area, and find Gene, looking through stacks of paper.

"Hey," I call, walking over to him, "you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah," he says, glancing up, "I want to know what you think of this." He hands we a stack of paper. I look over them.

"Charts?," I ask, "they're just blank charts."

"Yes, isn't this great?," he asks, "think how much more smoothly things will run. Someone gets injured, we can chart them and it'll be so much more easier-"

"Did you call me in here just to show me blank charts?," I ask. "Because I was kind of busy-"

"Monroe can wait," he interrupts.

"I didn't say it was him," I say.

"You didn't have to," he says, walking down the candle lit hallway. "Anyway, I called you down here for a reason. And no, it's not blank charts." He pulls keys from his jacket pocket and unlocks a typical hospital room door. "I need your help." He opens the door, and I walk in, noting first that the blinds are pulled shut. I look forward and see someone in the hospital bed.

If the lights were on, and there were beeping sounds, it would be exactly like a hospital room from before the Blackout. The person in the bed is a girl, maybe eighteen. Twenty at most. And her right wrist is handcuffed to the bed rail. My eyes widen as I look at her, asleep, her hair matted, blood clotted at her hairline. I exhale sharply and shut the door.

"What the hell is this, Gene?," I say, in a whisper.

"Ok," he puts his hand up in defense, "she stumbled into Derek and James' scouting area yesterday. They got her back here an hour ago."

"Who all knows?"

"Besides the two of us," he starts, "your brother, Charlie, Scanlon, and obviously Derek and James. Rachel will be back tonight from a scout, then I'm telling her."

"Well, what about Bass?"

"C'mon, Lindsay," he gives me a look.

"What?," I ask.

"Your husband is a lot of things," he says, "and I'm sure we could argue for months about what those things are. But you have to agree- he tends to overreact." He's not lying.

"So we're just going to keep a girl captive without telling him?"

"We're not-," he sighs, "we're not keeping het captive."

"Then why is she handcuffed?" I've been handcuffed to a bed before, I can say from firsthand experience that it feels a hell of a lot worse than it looks.

"She could be a soldier," he says, "we don't know anything."

"And you want me to talk to her?," I ask. He nods. "Me? Why?"

"You've been caught and hurt before," he says, "and you're... nice. I feel like you can connect to her."

"You think they tortured her?," I ask.

"I sure as hell don't think brainwashing happens by giving them flowers," he answers. I open the door and see her stirring.

"She'll wake up soon," I say.

"That's why I need you to make your decision now," he says. I sigh heavily.

"She's not from Willoughby?"

He hesitates, "...yes."

"So, you know her?," I ask.

"I know her name," he says, "I think. I think it's Heather. She's Joe Matthew's daughter, I'm pretty sure. Good friend of mine."

"So is he alive? Is he ok? Do you know?l

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm sorry, but you're going in blind."

"I never said I was going in," I say softly.

"Lindsay, please," he says, "I know it's dangerous. But there are at least ten armed guys around, and a doctor. You've got a gun. Please, I'm desperate. She is scared and alone, and she needs a friendly face, a motherly face."

"I'm not _adopting_ her, Gene!," I say quickly, "I'm a mother, yeah, but that doesn't make me Mother Goose or something."

"I know, I know," he says, catching my arm as I turn away, "I know you're not. But you look a hell of a lot nicer than me. She won't remember me." I sigh, and jerk my arm away from him.

"Fine."

"Thank you," he sighs. I open the door and close it behind me. What the hell is happening right now? I pour water into a glass and set it on the table beside the bed. Then I sit in the chair and wait.

After maybe five minutes, she stirs and slowly blinks her eyes open. I wait in anticipation for her to pull out a gun, scream, something. She looks around in silence and then spots me. She jumps and looks ready to scream.

"No, don't," I say quickly, holding up a hand. "Uh, it's-it's ok. You're ok."

"Where am I?," she asks, then notices the cuff. Her eyes grow wide and she shakes her wrist, "where am I?! Am I in a camp!? Who are you?!"

"My name's Lindsay," I say in a soothing voice, "it's ok. You're in a hospital."

"You're a doctor?," she asks.

"No, not exactly," I reply.

"Is this a camp?," she asks, in a whisper, "are you going to hurt me?"

"No," I say softly, "No, the last thing I want to do is hurt you."

"Then why am I handcuffed to the bed?"

"Can I know your name?," I ask, finding it better to not spring it up that I know it already.

"Can I give you a fake one?," she asks.

"If you want," I say with a nervous laugh.

"Lilly," she decides. "That's my favourite flower."

"Mine too," I smile, "calla lillies, especially."

"White ones."

"Like at a wedding," I agree. She eases up the slightest bit. "There's, um, some water there, if you're thirsty." She looks at it, but makes no move to touch it.

"You haven't told me why I'm handcuffed."

"You mentioned camps," I say, "you know about the reeducation camps then?"

"I'm not a cadet," she says, holding in tears. "And I'll prove it." She lifts down her eyelids, one at a time, to show me that there's no numbers there.

"How do you know about the tattoos?," I ask.

"My brother was a cadet," she says, "and he was killed in Austin. By Miles Matheson." I try to keep my cool.

"Well, Matheson had to," I reply, "he was going to kill someone."

"He's your brother, isn't he?," she asks, "you're Lindsay Matheson?"

"Yes," I nod. "Well, Lindsay Monroe."

"You married General Monroe?," she asks in surprise.

"Yes," I say, then change the subject, "your brother wasn't your brother anymore. I'm sorry."

"I don't blame your brother," she says, "or your husband. They did what they had to."

"You're right," I say.

"I blame the Patriots."

"You should."

"If you uncuff me, I'll tell you my real name," she offers. I nod.

"Gladly," I smile and pull the key off the top of the cabinet where Gene left it. I wiggle it into the lock and turn it. She sighs in relief and rubs her wrist.

"Thank you," she says, "and it's Heather. Heather Matthews."

"Nice to meet you," I say softly. "Heather, what were you doing this far out? You're from Willoughby, right?"

"Yes," she nods. "But when my brother died... they tried to take me. My dad and I barely escaped. We went to Austin, asked around...," her voice cracks and she looks down, "found my brother's body. It was just a day or two after he..."

"It's ok," I say softly.

"We found the mark," she says, blinking, "on his eye. So, we started snooping around and found out about the camps, the brainwashing..." she sighs, "that was nearly two weeks ago. I was out hunting when I saw these two guys kill a Patriot... then they caught me. I guess they brought me here."

"Did they hurt you at all?"

"No," she shakes her head, "I mean, they knocked me out, which hurt. But... I'm fine."

"I'm sorry," I say, "I can have our doctor look at you." I go to the door and call for Gene.

"You guys have doctors?"

"Not as many as the Patriots, but yes," I nod, "we have the one." He walks in.

"Heather," he nods, "my name is Dr. Porter, I'm a friend of your father's."

"You delivered my brother," she says in surprise, "I was four. And then, when I was ten, I had the flu... my dad got you..."

"Yes," he smiles, "I was afraid you wouldn't remember."

"I'll give you some privacy," I say and leave. I go down to the on call room, because that's where everyone will be, because it's the most comfortable. I knock lightly then open the door. Miles and Charlie are the only ones in here, passing a bottle back and forth.

"Hey," Miles says, catching sight of me. "Did you talk to Gene?"

"You mean did I meet the nineteen year old girl handcuffed to the bed? Yeah, I did."

"And?"

"You remember in Austin, when there was that shoot out you told me about?"

"And I nearly had to kill Jason?," Charlie asks, drinking, "yeah, I think I remember."

"Dillon Matthews," I say and Miles looks down.

"Fifteen year old kid whose eyes switched from murder to innocence and back in a second? I remember. What about him?"

"That's his sister."

"Let me guess," he groans, running a hand through his hair, "she wants to kill me."

"Uh, no," I reply, "she wants to kill Patriots. Her and her father."

"Where's the father?"

"No idea," I say, "but, she's been scouting out reeducation camps for two weeks now. Could be useful."

"Wow," Charlie says, "I'm impressed." Miles grunts. "Oh, c'mon, Miles. This is good."

"And you trust her?," he asks me.

"I do," I nod.

"Well, then, I'll talk to her," he stands up.

"Be nice," I say, as he starts to walk out.

"Whatever, sure," he snorts.

"Be _nice,_ Miles, seriously."

"Ok," he said, "damn, Lindsay." He walks away. I look at Charlie.

"Go with him," I say. She chuckles and gets up.

"Oh, hey," she adds quickly, "Aaron is around here somewhere. I'm sure he'd love to see you. Miles, wait up!" She jogs off. I think about the things we talked about earlier as I head down the hallway, looking for Aaron.

* * *

_"So, no Bass tonight?," I ask, flopping down on the couch next to my brother with a bowl of popcorn. He reaches in and grabs some. _

_"No, he's hanging with his family tonight," he replies._

_"Oh, right," I remember, "aren't they going to see Harry Potter?"_

_"Uh, hell if I know," he shrugs, going to take a sip of beer. He finds that it's gone and gets up. "I'm going to get another. You want one?"_

_"I'm twenty, Miles," I reply, flipping stations._

_"Oh, right," he says, and I just know he rolled his eyes. When he comes back, he opens the beer. "You're such a good girl, you know that?"_

_"And that's... bad?"_

_"Not yet," he says, "but get any worse, you'll be as bad as Ben." _

_I gasp, "Don't you dare say that!," I joke. We laugh._

_"No, but seriously," he says, not at all serious, "you're twenty-first is gonna be awesome and hilarious. You, me, Bass... he can finally get you drunk..." _

_"Miles!," I gasp, hitting his arm._

_"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he laughs, "c'mon, you think I'd let that-" his phone rings. "Hang on. It's Bass." He flips open the phone. "What's up, man?... Wait, wait, wait, slow down- Ba-Bass! Slow. Down." I sit up straight and stare at him. He shrugs at me, shaking his head, "what? You mean- what?! Ok, ok. Uh, the one on Third? Ok, I'll- we'll be right there. It's ok, Bass. I'm coming. It's gonna be ok." He shuts the phone and stands, grabbing his coat and keys._

_"Miles," I call, "what's going on?"_

_"C'mon," he says, his voice fast and shaky, "get your coat and get in the car."_

_"Shouldn't we tell mom where-"_

_"She'll understand," he says, grabbing my coat for me. He tosses it to me and I run out the door, grabbing my purse, and pulling the coat on, "we gotta go now!" He starts the car before I'm even in, and have the door closed. Five seconds later, we're zooming toward the highway, going fast than the speed limit._

_"Miles," I plead, "I'm scared, what's going on?" He glances at me, then back at the road. _

_"There's been an accident, Lindsay," he says. It's too quiet. He turned the radio down. All I hear is the cars zooming past us. "A bad one."_

_..._

_We race into the waiting room, me clutching my purse like a lifeline. We get to the desk._

_"One minute, please," the woman says, typing. Miles is about to say something, but instead, she looks up. "How can I help you?"_

_"The Monroes," he says, gasping out quickly, "Uh, Sebastian, Angela, Cynthia, Gail, and-and William. That's the dad, if you need...," he trails off. The girl's look changes but I can't really place it now. She clears her throat in a nervous way._

_"Friend or family?"_

_"Family," Miles says immediately, then realizes, "Oh, well, friends. But we're basically family." She looks upset. _

_"Sebastian Monroe is in a room to your right," she says, "but he was sleeping when they last left."_

_"Great, thanks-"_

_"What about the rest of them?," I demand. The girls just now seems to notice me. "The girls? Gail and William?"_

_"Why don't you wait in the waiting room until we can update you with anything?"_

_"No, I-I want to know about the girls," I insist. _

_"Ma'am, I can't-"_

_"They're dead, aren't they?," Miles asks, his face a look of shock and fear and sadness. _

_"Miles, come on," I say, "she would've-"_

_"No, she wouldn't have," he says, "she can't. They've got to tell family first, and Bass was sleeping, so they haven't told him. But they're dead, aren't they?" _

_"Sir, I can't-"_

_"Dammit!," he shouts, slamming the desk. She jumps. "Are the Monroes dead?!" _

_"Miles, stop!," I cry, tears in my eyes, "Please, Miles, let's just go, ok? Let's go see him. Come on." He mutters an apology to the woman at the desk and then we walk into a little nook in the corner. I put my hand on the wall, trying to keep myself up. _

_"It's impossible," he says, his voice shaking. "They can't be..."_

_"Angela wasn't," I take a deep breath, "wasn't even fifteen yet. She... we just talked two weeks ago, and she... oh my God!" I sob more and Miles hugs me. _

_"I know," he whispers, "I know."_

_"And Cyn! I didn't even get to see her this summer! Now she's... she's gone? She's..." I can't say it. I bury my face into Miles as he holds me tightly. _

_"I know, Linds," he says shakily. Behind us, I hear someone come up behind us. I see a doctor in the traditional white coat. _

_"Excuse me," he says, "but I was told you're waiting for Sebastian Monroe?"_

_"Bass," I say quickly. Miles rubs my shoulder._

_"Yes, we are," he says. _

_"He's awake," the doctor says, "if you'll follow me, I'll take you to his room." We follow him down the long, never ending hallway. Finally, finally, we arrive in front of a door. "He doesn't know, about his family. We'll inform him when he's stronger. So, please, don't mention it." _

_"Ok," Miles says. _

_"I'll leave you to it," the doctor says, and walks away. I take a deep breath._

_"Oh, God," I gasp. _

_"Ok, Lindsay, ok," he says in a low voice, "he can't know. He can't know. So we have to dry our eyes and go in there and pretend we're just worried about him, got it?"_

_"I can't, Miles," I sob, "I can't. Angela is..."_

_"I know," he says softly, "but you can do this. It's just acting, Lindsay, ok? You've got this." _

_"Ok," I sniff, "just... just give me a second." I wipe my eyes, and sniff. "Ok," I make sure I can keep myself from crying, "Ok, let's go." Miles opens the door, and it takes everything I have not to say cry again. Bass is sitting up in bed, cuts and bruises on his face. He looks up. _

_"Hey, guys," he says, looking so happy. Oh my God, he's so happy. In just a few hours, minutes maybe, there won't be a trace of that joy left. "Guys? What's wrong?"_

_"What's wrong is you were in a car crash, you moron," Miles says. He walks over and sits in the chair next to the bed. "Let me guess, drunk driver?"_

_"Yeah," he sighs, "dad was driving, talking to mom... came out of nowhere. I wish I had seen it, I could've said something-"_

_"It's not your fault!," I exclaim quickly. Miles shoots me a warning look. I keep my eyes on Bass._

_"Yeah, I know," he sighs, "Linds, you look so worried, what's up?"_

_"I'm just... I'm scared for you," I say, my voice shaking. It's not a lie._

_"Linds, I'm fine," he says, trying to reassure me. "I'm ok, seriously. Come here." He reaches a hand out and I notice the cuts on his arms. I walk over and take his hand. He draws me closer until I'm sitting on the bed. "Stop being so worried about me," he says, "it's gonna be ok." _

_"I know," I say, my voice cracking. _

_"God, look," he chuckles, "Shouldn't I be the one being babied? Come here." He pats the space next to him and I lay down on top of the blankets. "See? It's ok, stop crying." I nod, sniffing._

_"I'm sorry."_

_"No, don't apologize," he says, "you're scared, it's fine, I understand. In fact," he says, stretching so his hands are behind his head, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were doing this to make me feel needed, make me feel like I'm still strong."_

_"Oh, you caught me," I tease, only joking a little._

_"Well don't worry," he sighs, reaching for my hand, "I'm not weak, I'm fine. I'm gonna be just fine." It's quiet for a few minutes, and then Bass turns to Miles, "you guys hear anything about my folks? Or the girls?" I look at Miles quickly, eyes wide._

_"Nah," Miles says coolly, "nothing yet."_

_"That's good," he says, switching on the tv, "no news is good news, right? Maybe I can sneak out earlier than them and pick up Ang's birthday present."_

_"Yeah, like they'll let you out," Miles says, completely cool. I'm about to lose it. _

_"Mm," he shrugs, "I'll find a way. I'd just skip it, I don't normally buy birthday presents but, given all this... I figure it should be special, you know?" I stand up. _

_"Lindsay," Miles says, but he makes it sound like a question. _

_"My phone," I blurt, lifting it. "It's mom, I gotta take it." My words are coming out fast. I put the phone to my ear. "Hey, mom. We had to...," I trail off as I exit the room. As soon as the door is closed, and I'm out of sight, I sink down against the wall and sob, my face buried in my arms. The door opens and a few doctors go in. Then, Miles peeks his head out. "Miles, I'm-I'm sorry!," I gasp, "I'm so sorry!"_

_"It's ok," he says, "but they're about to tell him. We've gotta be there for him." _

_ "I'm gonna do it," I sniff, wiping my ege with my wrist, "I'm going to be strong. I'm going to be strong for him."_

* * *

I walk towards the exit doors. I've searched everywhere, I can't find Aaron. I open the wide, glass doors and open them. It's bright outside, so I shield my eyes. But I see Scanlon, motioning for someone to carry some of their stuff into the building.

"Yeah, I guess we're all living here, now, so- Lindsay," he says, seeing me, "hey."

"Hey," I reply, walking over to him. The other guy walks away, and he turns to me.

"How are you?," he asks.

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"Lindsay, really," he says, "I didn't ask it in passing. I asked because I want to know. How are you? No nightmares, flashbacks, or anything?"

"I'm fine, Scanlon."

"Well, it's just Vincent told me what they almost did and-"

"Of course he did," I say with a sigh, "no one in this place can keep their mouths shut."

"I just want to know if you're alright."

"I told you, I'm fine," I say, "do you know where Aaron is?"

"He and Priscilla are around back," he says.

"Thank you."

"Lindsay, wait," he calls, "be careful aorund Priscilla. She just seems kind of... weird."

"Nice, Scanlon," I say and walk to where he directed me. I find Aaron and Priscilla sitting by a fire, their backs to me. "Hey," I call. Aaron turns.

"Oh, my God," he stands and hugs me, "Oh, Lindsay, I was so worried."

"You shouldn't have been," I smile, as we pull away, "I was fine."

"They hurt you at all?"

"No," I shake my head, "I'm fine." I realize I'm being rude and look past him, "Hi, Priscilla." She turns as if she just noticed me.

"Hello, Lindsay," she says, sounding very business like, "how are you?"

"Good, thanks. You?"

"Fine," she says, then moves on, "you were captured again? By Patriots?"

"Um, yeah," I say, taken aback by how blatant she is. I hardly know her. She's practically a stranger. "Yes, I was."

"Who saved you?"

"Oh, well, it was a group effort," I reply, with a little laugh. "Listen, um, I have to go. Angela has probably woken up by now, and I'm sure Bass has things to do... So, I'll see you guys soon."

"Bye, Lindsay," Aaron says awkwardly.

"Bye-Bye," I say, muttering. I go to find Miles and Charlie, pondering what Scanlon said about Priscilla.


	11. Misguided Ghosts

"Ok, ok, I've got one," Miles says, with a laugh, lifting a bag of pretzels, "the trip to the mountains in, God, what was that? '09?"

"Um, '08, I think," I reply, "toss me a bag of those, please."

"They're stale as hell," he says, but tosses me one anyway. I shrug and put one into my mouth. They are still, but I still really miss the salty taste and the savory crunch I've always loved. "Ok, your turn."

"Um," I think about it, "The... trip to Hawaii, for Ben's birthday, _that_ was 2009, remember?"

"Yeah," he says, and nods, "ok, you're right, that was better."

"Well, how would you know?," I laugh, "you stayed inside half the time."

"Oh, you're one to talk," he laughs, "all you did was hop from one theatre to next."

"Oh, and you?," I say, "You and Rachel spent the whole week planning a surprise that you never ev... wait a second."

"And the pieces come together," he laughs.

"You and Rachel were sleeping together!," I whisper shout, "on Ben's birthday trip? Oh, that is wrong, Miles, that is so wrong." I let out a low chuckle.

"Yet you're laughing," he points out.

"Oh, shut up," I mutter, eating another pretzel.

"Hey," Bass says, coming in. "Are you guys eating pretzels?"

"Yeah," Miles chuckles, as I get up to meet Bass. "Well stocked hospital kitchens. Drink to them." He lifts his flask. I reach my husband and put my arms around his waist, bringing my lips to his. "Wha- please stop." I laugh, and pull away, kissing his jawline instead. "Why can you not spend five minutes without touching each other?"

"Because we're in love," I say, purely to annoy him.

"And we haven't got to spend a lot of time together, and now we do," Bass says, kissing my forehead, "we're taking full advantage of that."

"Well, do me a favor and keep it in your pants for a while," Miles snaps at him. I chuckle again and stop kissing him.

"Where's Angela?"

"Rachel's got her at the house," he replies, "so, what's this I hear about this Heather girl?"

"Oh, you know about that?"

"Yes, and quite frankly I'm upset that you didn't tell me," he says, kind of angrily.

"Gene didn't want me to," I say softly.

"Gene can kiss my ass!," he shouts, pulling away so my hands fall off his waist.

"Bass, cool down," Miles says sternly.

"Baby, what are you so mad about?," I ask cautiously. He got so angry, so fast. "Bass-"

"You two keeping stuff from me," he accuses, "everyone knows about this girl except me-"

"No! Not everyone. Only a few people," I insist, "Bass, it's not a big deal." He seems to take a second to cool off.

"I'm going to talk to Gene," he snaps, and pulls away.

"Bass!," I call, and then turn to Miles, "what was that? He just go so angry, so fast!"

"My guess is he got into an argument with someone else," he sighs, "and he's being a douche. Any way, just let him cool off for a bit, ok?"

"Miles, he needs help," I say.

"Look, you want to defend him," Miles says, "I get it, alright? And ok, I'll let you. He's had a bad day. We're all stressed, right? Got a nineteen year old girl who may or may not be brainwashed to kill us. So, I'm not going to punch him in the face for yelling at you like that."

"I'm his wife, Miles," I say firmly, "you understand that, right? I am his wife. Couples fight. But that doesn't mean I'm supposed to leave him alone for a couple of days. It means I talk to him. It means we sit down and talk and work out our problems. That's what is supposed to happen."

"Of course," Miles throws his hands up, "you're just going to pretend that nothing is wrong, that you guys are just the happiest couple in the world." He turns away and takes a drink.

"Miles, come on, you know it's not like that."

"Go ahead, Lindsay," he says, "After all, what's a man without his wife?" The last part sends chills up every part of my body, until I freeze. The words echo around my head, shifting until they're in a different voice, and I can smell peppermint, and feel hands bruising my arms with their grip.

"After all...," Truman says, a sick smile on his face that tells me he's getting exactly what he wants. "What's a man without his lovely wife?" He takes a lock of my hair, and starts twirling it. He is getting what he wants. Me. Power over me. Someone to push around and beat when he's had a bad day. Someone to sleep with whenever he wants. To clean for him. To cook for him. To dress up and show off. "We are going to make such a great couple, Lindsay. I mean, already, we are the talk of all the Texas papers." He laughs, "Our engagement party will be so-" I whimper and back away from him. He grabs my arms and shoves his lips onto mine, biting them. I sob violently, and then scream the second he takes a breath.

"Ah!," I cry, moving backwards.

"Lindsay!," Miles calls, touching my arm. I scream again and jump back. "Linds, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to upset you, ok?"

"He hurt me," I whimper, wrapping my arms around myself, and backing away. "He hurt me, and Bass wasn't there!"

"Lindsay, he's dead now," he says, "alright? He's not going to get you anymore."

"Garrett came back," I whisper, so he can't hear.

"What?"

"He could come back!," I shout and run out of the room. I run to the back of the hospital, where the dumpsters are, and sit down on the steps. Then I sob. I shouldn't still be doing this! I shouldn't be so scared of him. Why? Why is it coming back after weeks of staying away? Why is Garrett back? What the hell is wrong with me?!

"Lindsay," a voice acknowledges. It takes me a second to register it as Priscilla. I quickly stop my tears as best I can and sniff.

"Hi, Priscilla," I say, not turning.

"You're crying," she notes. Wow, thanks. Most people would've let me gain my composure. She said it so... plainly. Not like Miles would've. Or Rachel. Or Bass. Just... as a statement. Like 'your hair is brown' or 'you're wearing shoes.'

"Just a little," I reply finally, looking back a her, offering a small smile. "Can I help you?"

"May I sit with you?," she asks, gesturing to the space beside me on the steps.

"Oh, um, sure," I say, scooting over. She lowers herself so she's level with me.

"Did someone hurt you?"

"Yes," I say softly, then add quickly, "not just now, no. Just... I remembered when someone did and..."

"It hurt," she finishes.

"Yes," I nod.

"Your brother doesn't want you to confront your husband," she says. I notice that in everything she does, she does it with a certain... I don't know... mechanical like quality. "He's afraid he'll hit you again."

"Uh... yeah," I say hesitantly. I kind of wish she would stop blurting stuff like that.

"Hm," she says, looking at me, "amazing."

"What?," I ask with a nervous chuckle.

"Well, I was just wondering what it must be like in your head," she says matter of factly. She cocks her head, as if that will enable her to see into my mind. While I know that's impossible, the thought disturbs me.

"Ex-excuse me?," I ask cautiously.

"Held prisoner so many times...," she remarks, as if she's thinking very deeply about it, "never once cracking... all the things people must have done to you..."

"Ok, woah," I say, putting up a hand to stop her, "this topic is not open for discussion."

"What topic?," she asks, with a chuckle, "your life?"

"Yes!," I say, standing up, "You want to ask me if I'm ok, or if I can help you with something, what I did before the Blackout, my favourite color? Sure, cool. Go right ahead. But we don't discuss me being held captive. I barely even know you." She stands up to face me.

"Perhaps it's because you're so pretty," she says, reaching towards my hair. I take a step away from her. She is seriously freaking me out. "Perhaps that's why people desire to have you as their own. Beauty is an odd thing, isn't it?"

"I'm leaving," I say, stepping on the step above her, and walking away.

"You must be very strong," she calls. I stop, but don't turn. "Psychologically, I mean. All that, and you never cracked? Nightmares, PTSD... and you're able to put on a brave face for your daughter... perhaps you just bottle it up. Your head must be a very... interesting place."

"Stay away from me," I say, and go inside. Maybe that was rude. But she was scaring me. I push back my hair with my hands and go look for Miles. I've got to apologize now. "Miles?," I call, walking down the hallway, only lit by the sunlight from the windows. We haven't used this part of the hospital. It's dark, and empty, and creepy. Like a horror movie. Wait- did that light just flicker? No, that's impossible.

I find the stairs and start going up them, my hand on the rail lightly. What floor was the kitchen on? Three, I think. Maybe four. Heather is on two. Maybe that's where Gene is. Which means that's where Bass is. I open the door next to the big number 2, and walk in, shutting in softly behind me.

"Bass?," I call, finding the hall empty so far. "Gene? Miles? Anyone?"

"Lindsay," an unfamiliar voice calls. I whip my gun out of my jeans and point it behind me as I turn. Then I nearly drop it. In front of me is a kid, around seventeen. He has longish blonde hair, and blue gray eyes. One hand is in his jeans pocket, the other slightly raised in surrender. In front of me is my nephew. "It's ok," Danny says, putting his hand back in his pocket, "I didn't think you'd recognize my voice, but I gave it a shot."

"Danny...," I say, my voice cracking, "How... you... you're dead. I watched you die, and Garrett, too..."

"I know," he says, "I know. It's a lot to take in. Don't freak out."

"Don't- don't freak out?," I whisper, then louder, "don't freak out?! How the hell am I supposed to... who are you?"

"I'm your nephew," he says, with a chuckle, "Danny."

"Yes, and you died."

"Yeah."

"So how... are you... here?," I ask, somewhere between wanting run and wanting to hug him. He sighs, and takes a couple steps toward me. I don't move, my hand still on my gun, although I lowered it a while ago.

"You... told Garrett to go away," he says, I guess as a reply, though that hardly answers my question. "Said you never wanted to see him again, right?"

"Oh, ok, so what?," I ask skeptically, "you're his... replacement or something."

"Um, I guess," he shrugs, with a small chuckle.

"Replacement for what?!," I ask desperately. I remember Aaron having hallucinations, telling him things. "Are you here to give me some sort of message or something?"

"No," he says, almost amused.

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm here to see you," he says, as if I shouldn't suspect any different.

"Why?," I ask.

"Because I am," he says, "I can't explain it any differently."

"So I can just see dead people?," I demand.

"Yes."

"Why? What did I do?"

"Nothing," he laughs, "You didn't piss off God or anything... I just came to see you."

"Why!?," I repeat, "why now?! Why would you wait over a year after your death to come and see me?"

"We-," he stops himself, "I'm interested now."

"You almost said we," I accuse, "who's we?"

"All of us," he says casually, "those who love you that passed, I mean."

"So, the whole time I was pregnant, held captive, any other time... you never found me interesting until now? When nothing exciting is going on?"

"Exciting things are still happening," he argues. "You want to take a walk?"

"No, I really don't," I reply.

"Ok," he says, "we'll just talk."

"What do you want to talk to me about, Danny?," I ask in a pained voice. It hurts to see him. It really does.

"How's my cousin?"

"You know about Angela?," I ask in surprise.

"Of course," he looks at me, puzzled, "how is she?"

"Fine," I cross my arms, "how's God?" He laughs a little.

"God's... God," he says, being nonspecific. I was more asking for answers to the universe rather than making small talk. But I can't figure out if he's being funny or if he really did meet God. "Let me ask you something, Aunt Lindsay. Tom Neville, is he alive?" I stiffen.

"Yes," I whisper.

"Still hurting people?," he asks. I think back to how I lost my first child.

"I don't know," I say finally.

"What about General Monroe?" How can he know about Angela, but not Bass?

"Yes," I nod.

"How is he?"

"Danny...," I try not to, I really do. But for the first time in a long time, I feel guilty for marrying him, for forgiving him. "Angela... she's his kid." He looks shocked, and then he hugs me. I go completely still.

"I am so, so sorry," he says, in a whisper as he pulls away.

"No, she's not...," I sigh, looking away as I bite my lip, "I didn't conceive her because he raped me."

"But you said he..."

"He did, he has," I say, "but he doesn't anymore... It's difficult..."

"Wait, so you- you slept with him?," he asks, "and you trust him? Like you're just a happy married couple?"

"We are," I say in a small voice, hating myself for being ashamed of my marriage by a seventeen year old. A seventeen year old who died... because of my husband.

"You are what?"

"Married," I say, and then clear my throat, "B-Bass and I... we're married, and happy."

"So you are ashamed of it," he muses. At least that's what I think he said. But he couldn't have. He wouldn't.

"What?"

"I have to go," he says.

"Danny, wait," I say, as he starts walking away, "What did you say? Danny!" I blink several times and start to feel dizzier and dizzier, the edges of my vision blurring. "Danny... Dan... Wait!... who are..." I start falling.

"Lindsay!," I hear Bass' voice, then several others. "Linds!" I open my eyes to find myself on lying on the floor. "Oh, my God, Lindsay!," Bass says, hurrying over to me.

"Bass?," I ask, faintly. "What..." He kneels down next to me, and helps me up. As soon as I'm standing, I have to lean on him.

"Woah, I got you," he says, "I got you, it's ok."

"What happened?"

"You'd been missing for about an hour," Charlie says, "we came to look for you, and just as we found you..."

"You dropped," Miles says.

"And you were calling for someone," Connor adds.

"Guys, she's bleeding," he says, "back of her head."

"Must've hit when you fell," Miles says.

"Did I... fall?," I ask. As I ask it, I start passing out again.

"Woah!," Bass exclaims. "Ok, we, uh, we've got to get her to Gene."

"Connor, go get Rachel," Miles says, as Bass starts walking me away, holding me up.

"No, no, no, that's not gonna work," he says, "Rachel's got the baby."

"Baby," I say, taking some deep breaths. Their voices, my voice, sounds like it's at the end of a tunnel. "I want the baby. I-I want... Angela... can you... bring her to me?"

"Ok, get Rachel, tell her to bring the baby," Miles says, "Charlie, go tell Gene we've got a head bleed."

"No, don't," I say, "you tell him that... he'll think my brain is bleeding... inside. Tell my head is bleeding."

"Got it," she says, giving me a look like she desperately wants to ask something, before she jogs off, Connor already out of sight.

"C'mon," Bass says, "Let's get you up these steps." He looks over at Miles, "I'm gonna have to carry her."

"I'll spot you," Miles nods.

"Can I go back to sleep?," I ask.

"Yeah, sure, baby," Bass murmurs, kissing my forehead, "go right ahead."

"K," I mumble, before passing out.

* * *

**Two years before the Blackout**

_I pick up my phone and go into my room to answer it. _

_"Hey, Bass," I say, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. I've only seen him a handful of times since the accident, and each time, he was always crying, drunk, both, or about to snap someone's head off. "How are you?"_

_"Miles went back to North Carolina," he says, "they called him back in."_

_"I know," I reply, "he left yesterday. Didn't you go, too?"_

_"No," he sounds so calm. "They let me stay for a bit. To grieve or whatever."_

_"Oh, well, that's...," what is that?_

_"Lindsay, I-I need a favour," he says._

_"Ok?"_

_"I'd never ask this if Miles was here," he begins, "and if you say no, I understand completely. But I, um... I can't do it alone, so..."_

_"What is it?," I ask, worried._

_"I-I've got to clean out the house," he says, his voice breaking, "my f...family's house, and I can't... I can't do it. Not by myself. And Miles isn't here. Please, Lindsay, I've got no one. You're the only person that... Please, Linds." He's already acting as if I said no. _

_"Oh, Bass, of course," I reply, "It'll have to he soon, though, I have to get back to Pittsburgh before Monday."_

_"Tomorrow," he says, "we can do it tomorrow. I've put it off enough."_

_"Alright, I'll see you in the morning."_

_"Is ten alright?"_

_"Ten is fine," I reply, "but if you want, I could come up to the hotel earlier, make you breakfast?"_

_"No," he says, "no, don't do that. It's a mess, and... I need to not... I'm not a morning person."_

_"Bass, I've known you for fourteen years," I say, with a sad smile, "I've seen you in the morning before."_

_"Not since they died," he says flatly._

_"Oh, right," I say, smiles gone, "Sorry."_

_"Don't be," he murmurs, "I'll see you at ten, I'll pick you up, ok?"_

_"Ok."_

_"K. Bye."_

_"Bass, wait-"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Is there anything you need?," I ask, "anything at all? I could run to the store before we-"_

_"No, Linds, I've got everything that's left for me already. Thanks."_

_"Bass, don't do anything... irrational..."_

_"Like put a gun to my head and pull the trigger?"_

_"Yeah, like that," I say, seriously worried now. He gives a short, closed mouth laugh._

_"Don't you worry about me," he says, "I'll stay alive."_

_"Bass, maybe I should-"_

_"Should what? Come and baby sit me? Nurse me back to shining, happy health? No, I-I think I'm good. But thanks." _

_"Ok," I say softly. "See you tomorrow."_

_ "Yep," he says, then hangs up. I sit on my bed and attempt to pray that he'll be alright under my breath. I've never been very good at praying. But, I mean... if He really is... Him, he'll hear no matter how much I stutter, right?_

* * *

I open my eyes with a little groan. My fingers go to the back of my head and I feel neat stitches there. I'm in a hospital bed, the blankets tucked around my waist.

"Mm," I scoot to sit up, and find it's painful to do so, "hello?" No one is in here but me, and it's lit with a dying candle. Did they all go home? Leave me here? Surely someone is here. Most of our group lives here. "Scanlon? Vincent?" The door opens and Charlie walks in, carrying a tray of food.

"Hey," she says, coming to stand by the bed after she puts the tray on the table attached to it. He lights a few more candles and I can see the worry etched into her face.

"Hey," I reply, doing my best not to sound weak. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Just around eleven," she replies, pouring a cup of water from a small pitcher. She hands it to me. "Here, drink this. You sound like hell." I smile and take a long drink.

"Thanks," I say, "and sorry."

"Nah, don't apologize," she says, with a smile, "you gave us a hell of a scare is all."

"What happened?"

"You tell me," she says, "we were looking for you, heard you talking to someone, then you dropped."

"Oh, right," I mutter, remembering exactly who I was talking to. I'm losing my mind, I swear. "Why does my side hurt? I hit my head, right?"

"Yeah, you landed pretty hard on your side," she says, lifting a metal clipboard and then putting it back, "your kidney, apparently." She smiles, with a small laugh.

"That's funny?"

"If you saw how excited grandpa was about these charts it would be," she says.

"Oh," I give a small smile, "where's Bass?"

"With the baby," she replies, "once Gene said you weren't going to wake up for a few hours, we decided he should take Angela back home. And then Miles dragged him there."

"But you stayed?"

"Grandpa nearly dropped from exhaustion," she says, "so I said I'd stay here tonight, keep an eye on things."

"Just you?"

"Jason and Connor and I are taking shifts," she says, "well, obviously, Scanlon and the guys are here, but we're in charge."

"Oh, ok," I say, picking up the bowl of stew she brought in and eating it. I feel it drop into my stomach, because I'm so hungry.

"Lindsay, I've gotta ask you something."

"Ok," I say carefully.

"Before you fainted," she starts. Oh no. "You called for Danny. You-you called for my brother. Why is that?"

"Uh, I...," What now? Do I tell her I'm crazy and see people that aren't possibly there? Do I lie? "I saw him."

"You saw my brother?," she whispers.

"Yes," I nod, "I... think I was already dreaming, sleepwalking almost... then I dropped."

"Miles said you ran out of the kitchen..."

"Maybe I bumped my head," I shrug, "I remember talking to Priscilla... and she was asking me about... my mind... and then I hurried away. I guess I fell and... had a weird dream."

"Lindsay, you seemed pretty conscious-"

"Well, what do you want me to say, Charlie?!," I snap, "That I'm crazy and I'm seeing things?"

"No," she says, trying to stay calm, "I'm just worried about you." I give her a hard look before finally sighing.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, "Oh, God, Charlie, I'm-I'm sorry."

"It's ok," she says.

"No, I shouldn't have yelled, I just...," I sigh, "I'm just frustrated is all, I'm sorry."

"I understand, it's ok," she says. We're quiet for a bit. "Is there anything you want?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you. But how's Heather?"

"Same as you," she chuckles, leaning back and putting her feet on the rail at the end of the bed. "Cranky, wants her family, and to be out of the damned hospital bed."

"Gene's still got her on bed rest? But she only had a couple cuts."

"Oh, he didn't tell you?," she asks.

"Tell me what? I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Her and her dad did a bit more than case the brainwashing camp."

"What'd they do?"

"They-"

"I snuck in," We look up to see Heather in the doorway, leaning on some crutches. "Thought, 'hey, I look around the same age', went in with a group, thought I'd get information before we found you guys. Or some rebels or something. Anyway, they caught me, gave me a bunch of whacks with a stick. Broken leg, cuts, bruises... maybe permanent damage to my heart, God knows."

"How'd you-"

"She shouts louder than the guys who hit me," Heather nods to me, "but less annoying. Can I come in?"

"Oh, of course," I reply, nodding to the couch. "You were looking for us?"

"You and whatever other resistances there are," she says. "Everyone knows about you guys killing Truman." Charlie stiffens and glances at me. I keep my composure, not letting myself freak. "So, yeah. When we decided to fight againt the Patriots, who else would be look for?"

"Where's your dad?," Charlie asks. Her cool composure breaks, and she looks down.

"I don't know," she says with a sigh, before looking back at us, "He didn't want to let me go into that camp. I was arrogant and thought I'd get in, and get out, go right back to him. Left while he was sleeping. Heaven knows where he is now." I notice that she has a slight Texas accent I hadn't noticed before. "So y'all are still doing it, right? Fighting them?"

"Yes, we are," I nod, "Well, they are, I'm, uh... I can't."

"How come?"

"My daughter," I reply.

"You and Monroe got a kid?," she asks, with a small smile. I notice that her walls are slowly being chipped at. Before, she wouldn't even let her accent creep in, and she used mostly proper English. But she's starting to trust us, and be herself around us.

"Yes," I say, with a smile, "her name's Angela. Nora Angela."

"That's pretty," she says. "Nora Angela Monroe. That's really pretty. How old is she?"

"She's almost eight months," I reply, "she'll be eight months the Friday after next."

"I like babies," she says, "When Mrs. Porter was alive, she used to let me help her with sick babies."

"You knew my grandma?," Charlie asks.

"Yep," she nods, "I was just about sixteen when she died."

"I'm sorry," Charlie says.

"Same here," Heather says.

"Hey," Connor says, coming in. "You're up, Linds, how are you feeling?"

"Fine, thank you," I smile. "How's your dad?"

"Stressed, scared," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, the way Bass does, "he'll be by in the morning. Let's just hope he's not hung over."

"He's got Angie, he won't get drunk," I say. Connor looks around and spots Heather.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?," he asks, pointing at her.

"I've been lying in a bed for a day and a half," she says, "I was going crazy. And, Dr. Porter told me I should move around if I can."

"Fantastic," he mutters, pulling out a flask.

"Hey," I call, "don't drink too much of that."

"Sure thing," he says and takes a swig.

"Lindsay, you're awake," Jason says, also coming in. I realize that I'm a whole decade older than all the people in this room. The thought makes me squirm.

"Hi, Jason," I smile, as he comes over to hug me.

"Feeling better?"

"Much, thank you."

"Brought this from the house," he says, holding up my worn, but prized, copy of A Tale of Two Cities.

"Ah!," I say, not too loudly in delight.

"And I put some bags of tea in the kitchen," he says, "Monroe said you like them, so I thought maybe someone could heat up some water for you tomorrow."

"God, Jason, you're the best," I say, with a smile.

"Well, don't throw around that title yet," he chuckles, "your husband told me what to bring."

"But you brought it," I point out.

"Eh," he shrugs modestly. "Is there anything you want from the house?"

"Excuse me? The-the house?," Connor asks, "Last time I checked, you didn't live there. I think you should probably wait until morning before you barge in on everyone's lives."

"Ok, man, I didn't mean to offend anyone. Sorry."

"Jason?," Charlie asks, before Connor can say anything else, "maybe we should go make some tea now... for Lindsay?" He looks at her for a moment and then smiles, before masking it.

"Maybe we should," he agrees. "Good seeing you, Linds." Charlie chuckles, stands and grabs his hand, pulling him out of sight. Heather looks at me, raising her eyebrows, then giggles.

"Are they gonna...?"

"Probably," I chuckle, rolling my eyes.

"You think they'd have a shred of patience," Connor snaps, "or dignity at least."

"Connor, calm down," I say, hiding a small smile.

"They go at it every ten minutes," he says, "it's ridiculous."

"Connor-"

"Oh, I get it," Heather interrupts, "you got a crush on her!"

"No, I don't," he snaps, "I just think they could show some respect is all."

"What? Did you sleep with her and now you think you're in love with her?"

"What?"

"But he showed up and she loves _him_ and you're dying inside?"

"No!"

"Heather, stop," I say, with a small laugh, "Charlie and Jason have known each other for about two years, and they were separated. Her and Connor started a... relationship while they were and... well, now, Jason's back."

"And after all he did to her...,"Connor mutters.

"They're in love," Heather shrugs, "It's sweet."

"What the hell do you know about?," he asks, "In fact, who the hell are you to come in here bitching about love?"

"Connor!," I shout, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going home," he says, "if they want to have sex all night, good for them." He grabs his flask and shuts the door behind him. I turn to Heather.

"I'm sorry for him," I say quickly, "he's... well, he didn't come from the nicest... background when we found him."

"You mean he ain't your kid?"

"No, he's... he's my husband's, but not mine," I say, "I'm not his mother."

"Oh," she says, looking after him. "He's hot."

* * *

_I call to mom and dad that I'm leaving as I see Bass' truck pull up in front of my house. I grab my phone quickly and run out to meet him. _

_"Hey," I say, getting in next to him. _

_"Hey," he repeats dryly. He starts driving as soon as I'm buckled. "Thanks... for doing this with me."_

_"Oh, no problem. You need someone... and I'm glad to be here for you." He nods, then gets quiet. "So, um, how are you?"_

_"I am... I'm great," he says, with a bitter chuckle. "I'm fantastic."_

_"Bass, I'm serious," I say softly._

_"What do you want to hear?," he asks, "I'm depressed? I'm in a period of-of deep mourning?"_

_"I just don't want you to lie to me," I reply. He sighs. _

_"I know. I'm sorry. But I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I'm trying to be ok."_

_"It's ok not to," I say, as he pulls up in his driveway. _

_"No, it's not. Not for me."_

_..._

_"Ok, what about this?," I call, holding up a small clay pot. He comes in from the kitchen, wrapping stuff up. _

_"What is it?," he asks. _

_"Looks like a flower pot," I reply, handing it to him as he kneels down next to me. He looks over it and then lets out a choked cry. _

_"Cyn made this for me," he says, strained, "for my eighth birthday. She was... oh, God, she was five." He carefully takes the pot and wraps it up._

_"I'm sorry, Bass," I say, needing to say something. He doesn't turn to face me. "Bass?" I stand up and stand behind him. _

_"I'm not gonna do it," he says, "I am not going to cry."_

_"Oh, Bass...," I whisper. He turns around and hugs me, crying hard. "It's ok, Bass, it's ok." I don't want to do, what to say. I just know that he needed someone, and I want to be there for him for the rest of my life._

_..._

_We're sitting on the couch in Bass' hotel room, looking through pictures. He's keeping it together well. I think he cried out everything he had earlier. He drains his beer, and stands._

_"I'm getting another. You sure you don't want one?"_

_"I'm sure," I nod, and watch him walk over to the mini fridge. "Bass, how many have you had?"_

_"Doesn't matter," he says and sniffs. _

_"Yes, it does," I say as he sits back down next to me, "Bass, you should take it-"_

_"Look, I'm gonna he honest with you," he says, looking me in the eye, "I'm going to get drunk tonight. I'm just going to. I'm going to look at the pictures of my dead family, and I'm gonna get drunk."_

_"Bass-"_

_"Don't," he says, shaking his head, "Don't try and plead with me. It's happening."_

_"Is there anything I can do?"_

_"No," he says, "and it's getting pretty late, you should start on home."_

_"You drove me here," I say._

_"Right," he mutters, then sniffs, pushing a hand through his hair, "right. Where's my keys?"_

_"Woah, Bass, wait," I stop him, "you're not driving. No way."_

_"Gotta get you home," he insists, looking for the keys. He starts to stand up but I grab his hand, pulling him back next to me. _

_"Bass, please." _

_"Well, what are you gonna do?," he asks, "Stay here?" He gestures to the dingy hotel room._

_"Yes."_

_"No, not happening," he mutters, "you deserve better than that." _

_"So do you," I reply softly. That surprises him and gets him to relax slightly. He looks at me, his blue eyes not yet affected by the alcohol. He gets slightly closer to me, and I swear he looks at my lips. The thing is though, I don't pull away. I don't want to pull away. Do I actually want Bass to kiss me? I think about it. He's gorgeous, that's for sure. But he's also my brother's best friend- pretty much my best friend. But do I want him as more? I'm not sure, but all I'm saying is, I don't pull away. I jump as his phone beeps. _

_"Uh," he clears his throat, "that's, uh, mine. It's-it's Miles. I'll be back."_

_"Ok," I nod, as he leaves. As soon as the door shuts behind him, I exhale sharply. What the hell just happened?_


	12. Falling Slowly

"Wait, she's-she's awake? She's awake now?," Bass voice shouts, from outside. I put down my book, knowing he'll burst into the room in three, two... there it is. He comes in, holding Angie, his hair messed up.

"Good morning," I say, with a smile. He just stares at me for a bit. Angie shrieks and reaches for me.

"You... scared the hell out me," he breathes.

"Mm, don't I always?," I ask, holding my hand. He takes it and I pull him and the baby closer, kissing him.

"Are you ok? How do you feel? I mean, what even happened? Are the stitches keeping together? Have you-"

"Bass, Bass, Bass," I stop him quickly, "I'm fine. I'm great. You're here." I reach for Angie and he puts her on my lap, "and you're here! Hi, Angie!" Bass sits in the chair next to the bed and smiles.

"So what happened?," he asks, letting his hand slip out of mine as I sit up to play with Angie.

"I passed out," I reply with a light shrug.

"Ok, but why?," he asks, picking up my book ro look over the cover.

"I don't know."

"You don't- well, does Gene? I mean, he is a doctor, right?"

"He said it was probably just a panic attack," I say softly, noting the anger colouring his voice. I soften my voice, posture, and gaze even more to let him know I'm not going to argue with him or anything. "You know how I get."

"Huh," he says, like he's thinking about it. "but what set you off? Why'd you freak?"

"Miles... said something," I say quietly, looking at our daughter, "that Truman had said to me, and I got scared."

"Miles did? Why would he do that?"

"Well, it's not like he knew Bass," I reply, looking at him. I think about how angry he got yesterday, and how I got scared when he got angry just now. "Take her out to Rachel, please."

"Lindsay-"

"Bass," I shake my head, "just do it, please." He nods and picks her up, carrying her out of the room. By the time he comes back, I have tears in my eyes.

"Why did you make me do that?"

"I don't want her to hear you yell," I whisper.

"What? Lindsay, why would I...?"

"You yelled at me," I say, not looking at him, "yesterday. We were fine, we were kissing and-and then you just got so angry and you were yelling, Bass."

"Linds, I was upset," he replies softly, "because of the Heather thing. You know that."

"But you got so angry so quickly," I say, "I mean, I haven't seen you get that angry at me since-," I immediately stop talking, and look away, biting my lip.

"Since Philly," he finishes softly.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I shouldn't have brought it up, I-"

"Stop," he says, "look at me." I look up to stop the tears, and then look at him. "Never, ever apologize to me. Especially about Philly. What happened- What I did... that was all my fault. I never want to hear you apologize like that again, you understand?" I nod. "You never do that. What's going on with you?" I've been seeing dead people, that's what's going on with me. But I can't tell him that. I mean, before the Blackout, moms who had schizophrenia or something had their children taken away. What if Bass decides that's what's best? What if he thinks me seeing Garrett is because I was in love with him? And that seeing Danny is some way of blaming him and being angry at him?

"I'm just... my head hurts," I say, with a small smile, reaching out to hold his hand, "and I hate being in this bed, and I'm just tired, I guess."

"You know I won't hurt you again, right?," he asks quietly, cupping my cheek. "No matter what."

"I know," I murmur, putting my hand on top of his, "I love you."

"I love you too," he says, and kiss my forehead, then my lips.

"Hey," I say in his ear, "Since, um, I can't get out of this bed..."

"Oh, there's something we never tried before," he chuckles.

"Hospital bed?," I laugh, as he kisses me.

"Yep," he says, still laughing. Well, technically, he has tried to sleep with me while I was bed ridden, but, you know, it was his fault I was bed ridden, and he succeeded a couple of times, and then I only spent more time in recovery...

"Monroe, off," Gene snaps, coming into the room. Oh thank God. I didn't want to freak, but it was getting hard not to. Bass breaks away, with a sigh of irritation, and sits in the chair next to me. Rachel is right behind Gene, holding Angela, and she sits on the couch.

"Gene, can I get up now?," I ask, annoyed.

"Lindsay, I know you think I hate you," he says, checking the stitches, "but I am doing this for your own good. I don't want you to pass out again. "One more day, alright?"

"Ugh," I complain, "well, I at least need something to read."

"I can give you some medical books," he suggests, "you need to work on that anyway."

"Ugh, fine," I sigh, "give me something. Um, neuro, I haven't done much neuro."

"Ok, I'll be back with with that," he says, walking out.

"How are you, Lindsay?," Rachel asks, standing and walking towards me. She sets Angela down in my arms, as she's almost asleep.

"I'm good, thank you," I smile, "how's Miles?"

"Stressed," she says, "he's out scouting now, you know how he is. He likes to keep busy."

"Yeah," I murmur. She gets quiet, and glances at Bass, then away. She runs a hand through her hair. "Bass?," I say, almost in a whisper, "Can you go make me some tea?"

"Sure," he says, standing and kissing my forehead, "raspberry or regular?"

"Raspberry, please," I reply. He nods and shuts the door behind him after he leaves. I look up at Rachel, "What's up?"

"Why do you assume something's up?"

"I saw how you were looking at him," I lower my voice, "Rachel? What's going on?"

"I... uh...," she rubs her forehead, sitting in the chair, "I had a dream about him. Last night."

"Oh," I say, looking down, "a-a dream dream or a memory dream?"

"A memory," she replies, "it was, uh, the night after Miles left."

"You... you never told me about that."

"Well, he wasn't with you," she says bitterly, "he was out looking for Miles for hours. And then, he showed up, drunk, of course. He came into my room, hit me, asked me if I knew anything. Obviously, I was just as shocked as him. And he was angry... started smashing things, knocking my stuff over. He hadn't... hurt me in a while, not himself, it was Strausser. But he was so angry, and he saw me there and told me that I drove Miles away, I pushed him. And then he... taught me a lesson," she snorts and then looks at me. "He yelled a lot back then, didn't he?" I realize she had that dream because he yelled.

"You heard him shout at me."

"Getting angry... so fast. It doesn't worry you?"

"It does," I admit, then look down at the sleeping baby in my arms, "but I trust him."

"That worries me more," she says, them stands up.

"Rachel-"

"I don't want you to get hurt," she says, "but if he does, I'll be here." She gives Angela a last look before leaving the room. I feel bad, almost. But I didn't do anything wrong! Why can't we all be close? Like we used to?

...

**One year before the Blackout**

_"Miles, where are we going?!," I ask for the billionth time. I'm sitting in the front seat of his beaten down, but prized red car. He's driving, and Bass is in the backseat. Rachel and Ben are driving behind us. _

_"I told you," he says, laughing, "you'll find out when we get there." _

_"Miles!," I groan. The car lets out an odd noise, like a bang, and I see Bass jump in the mirror, and Miles' hands tighten on the steering wheel, his whole posture rigid. Their second tour changed them for sure. Their first, they came back upset, of course, but they weren't bad. Well, to be fair, I didn't see them until a while after because of school. It's been about five months since they came home, and they're still showing signs of PTSD, something I've never dealt with. And now they're supposed to go through another tour, in a few months. That's why I'm coming home as much as possible._

_"C'mon, Linds," Bass says, trying to diffuse the tension, "it's your twenty-first birthday, let us surprise you."_

_"See, though? That's the problem!," I whine, "You're taking me somewhere with alcohol!"_

_"You gotta have your firsr drink sometime," Bass laughs._

_"Wait, wait, wait," Miles says, laughing, "you're telling me you've never drank? Ever?"_

_"Not even at Ben's wedding," Bass replies for me._

_"Well, I've been kind of busy with school, and I mean, I just decided to wait until I was allowed."_

_"Fair enough," Bass says, "But that means: one drink tonight for every drink you've ever been offered."_

_"No," I giggle, "no way! I'd get so wasted if I did that!" _

_"Works for me," Bass says, with a smile. I reach back and hit his arm. _

_"Hey," Miles snaps, "shut up." I roll my eyes. He makes comments about Bass and I getting together all the time. Yet he has no idea about the moment Bass and I shared last summer..._

_"Anyway," I say, as Miles pulls into the parking lot of a bar, "I'm only going to have a few drinks tonight, I'm not getting drunk. I'm not you two." _

_"Ouch," Miles says sarcastically. He gets out of the car, and Bass and I follow. I look behind me to see Rachel and my brother following. I haven't seen her yet today and I smile and she jogs toward me to hug me. _

_"Happy twenty-first, Linds!," she says, laughing._

_"Thank you!," I say, pulling away and looking at Ben over her shoulder. "Hey, Benjamin."_

_"Hey," he smiles. "Hey, Miles, Bass."_

_"Little brother," Miles acknowledges, "Hey, Rachel."_

_"Hi, Miles," she says quietly, and then looks away. "Let's go inside, alright, guys?" We follow her suggestion and sit at a booth like table. _

_"So, um, how's-how's Danny?," I ask, taking off my jacket. _

_"Good," Rachel says, "he's fully recovered from the surgery." _

_"That's good," I smile. "And Charlie is dealing well?"_

_"Yep," Ben answers._

_"She just celebrated a birthday, didn't she?," Miles asks._

_"She did," he says, "you should come by and see her. She'd like that."_

_"Yeah, maybe I will," Miles replies. "We could go to the park or something."_

_"Cool, I'll see if I can set it up," Ben says. Rachel for her part looks like that's the last thing she wants. The only thing I can attribute that to is that her and Ben have been fighting a lot, they've had problems since Danny's surgery. Before, actually. _

_"Ok, uh, it's a twenty-first birthday here," Bass laughs, "can we get some drinks?"_

_"Right, of course," Miles says, tearing his eyes off Rachel. "So, five beers, right?"_

_"No, no way," I speak up, "I have smelled that stuff before, I don't want it in my mouth."_

_"Linds, c'mon, you gotta have a beer," Miles says._

_"No, she doesn't," Bass speaks up, "She can have scotch, make mine a scotch too."_

_"Scotch, the first time you drink?"_

_"Miles, she can handle it," he laughs. _

_"Ok, ok, fine," Miles laughs back. "I'm getting whiskey. You too?"_

_"Just a beer for me," Ben says. _

_"Rachel, vodka soda, right?"_

_"No, actually, just a beer for me too," she says, smiling at Ben. _

_"Sure, of course," he looks slightly disappointed. He masks it by smiling quickly, "I'm gonna go get those." _

_"So, Lindsay," Rachel says quickly, "you're an adult now."_

_"Yeah, I guess so," I chuckle. "Ew, I feel old."_

_"Imagine how we feel," Bass laughs. Ben chuckles and then his phone rings. He glances at his wife. _

_"It's, uh, it's our boss," he says, "I better take this." He stands up and excuses himself. _

_After about ten seconds, Bass can't stand the silence. _

_"So... Rachel? How's... work?"_

_"Good, Bass, thank you," she says, "it's good to have you back, by the way."_

_"Oh, thanks," he says. I smile. I love my group of friends, even if half of them are my biological family. Me, Bass, Rachel, and Miles. And Ben, of course. And it's rude of me to think, even if I've never said it out loud and it's true, but Ben just kind of seems... different. Not in a bad way! He's my brother, I love him. But from the day I met Rachel, she and Miles had this connection. And all those dinners the four of us had after my performances... honestly, I never Rachel/Ben coming. I used to think her and Miles would've dated for a while, maybe even gotten married. But I guess I was wrong. But even still, I feel like it's always going to be us plus Ben. I don't know why. It's always been me, Bass, Miles... plus Ben. And Rachel somehow melted into our group. I know Ben doesn't socialize well, but he's my brother. Shouldn't I get on well with him? _

_"Uh, I am so sorry," he says, coming back, "but, um, I've got to go back to work."_

_"But it's nearly nine!," Rachel says._

_"And it's Saturday, man," Bass adds, "this can't wait until an actual work day?"_

_"Every day is an actual work day for me, Bass," Ben chuckles. He grabs his jacket, and puts it on. "And this can't wait."_

_"Ben, should I go with you?," Rachel asks. "You might need-"_

_"No, it's fine," he says, "you stay here, enjoy your evening."_

_"Alright," she says, "tell the kids good night for me, if you see them."_

_"Will do," he says, "love you."_

_"Love you too," she says. He bumps into Miles, who's carrying our drinks, on the way out._

_"Hey, Ben, where you going?"_

_"They need me at the lab," he says, "I gotta go."_

_"Oh, but c'mon! It's Lindsay's birthday!"_

_"I know, I'm sorry," he says, "but I've gotta go."_

_"Alright, well, see you, I guess."_

_"Bye," he says, and puts a hand on my shoulder, "Happy birthday, Linds, I'm sorry."_

_"It's ok," I say, with a small smile, "really, it's fine. I'll see you soon."_

_"Ok, bye," he says, quickly, and then leaves. Rachel looks after him. I notice that they didn't kiss goodbye or anything. They said 'I love you' in passing. I think that's sad. If I loved someone enough to marry them, I would kiss them every time I had to leave them. _

_"Well, that sucks," Miles says, sitting down. He passes out drinks. "Ok. Jack Daniel's for me, Budlight for Rachel, MacCutchen for Lindsay and Bass, who, by the way, is paying for that stuff. Alright, Linds, you ready?"_

_ "Bottoms up," I reply, raising the glass to my lips._

* * *

My eyes almost flutter close again. This book is so boring. Watching or hearing about surgery is one thing. But reading about every little detail of a brain? Not what I want to be doing now. I flip the page and start the chapter on 'abnormal conditions'.

"As interesting as that book looks," Bass says. I look up to see him in the doorway, "Gene says you can get up and come to the meeting if you want."

"Oh, God, yes," I breathe, with a grin. I put the book down, and stand up. Then I chuckle. "He acts like I'm too weak to get out of bed, but honestly, that was easy." Bass chuckles and holds up a bag. I look inside to see fresh clothes. "Thank you." I turn around and undress, then put on the new clothes. "Where's Angela?"

"She is with Rachel in the kitchen," he says, "which is where we're going."

"Oh, good," I reply, kissing him. "Mm, do we have time before the meeting?"

"God, I want to say yes," he says against my lips, then pulls away, "but no, they're all waiting on us, c'mon."

"Fine," I mutter, and he chuckles. He wraps his hand around mine, and we walk into the hallway, and then into the kitchen.

"Lindsay!," Gene says, and stands up, his hands still on the table. Miles stops talking, and looks up.

"Bass, what the hell?"

"Bass, you-you said Gene said it was ok."

"I most certainly did _not_ say that," Gene says, "Lindsay, get back in bed."

"No," Bass says for me, "She's fine, see? More than capable of walking."

"No, Monroe, this is-"

"He's right," Rachel speaks up, holding Angela. She's sitting between Miles and her dad. On Miles' right is Charlie, then Jason, then Connor, Scanlon, Vincent, and then four empty chairs. "She's as much as a part of this as anyone, she should be here."

"What's going on?," I ask, taking Angela from her, much to my baby's delight. I smile at her and then look at Miles. "What are you guys talking about?" Miles glances at Gene. "I'm not leaving."

"Ok, well, at least sit down," he says, "you're... swaying." I realize he's right, and take a seat so that there's a seat between Vincent and I and two betwen Gene and I. In case I, like, fall over. "Alright. We're trying to figure out what to do next."

"Wha... How do you mean?," I ask, as Bass sits to my right.

"Well, we came here to raid the camp," Miles says.

"No, we came here to save the kids in the camp," Charlie reminds him.

"Right, well," he says, and takes a drink, "The point is, we are keeping an eye on it, but we can't get in there. Not now. So, do we sit on our asses for-"

"Hey, language," Bass reminds him, "baby in the room."

"Sorry," he mutters, "the point is, while we're sitting here, they're on the move."

"So what do we do?," I ask.

"I'm thinking... we should go to Austen," he says. I gasp as everyone clamors to give their opinion, their words intermingling so I can barely understand

"Miles, no!," Charlie says.

"Absolutely not!," Jason adds.

"Miles, what the hell are you thinking?," Bass asks.

"Miles, you've had a lot of dumb ideas...,"Gene says.

"Too dangerous," Rachel says.

"He never did figure out how to introduce a good plan, did he?," a voice asks, not louder than everyone else, but still... it's like everyone else gets muted. I look to my left.

"Nora?," I whisper.

"What?," Bass asks, touching my arm as everyone argues. I rip my eyes away from my friend and look at him.

"What? Um, nothing," I say, glancing back. She's gone. "Nothing, I just... nothing."

"Linds, what do you think?," Miles calls.

"What exactly would you be doing in Austen?," I ask.

"We've got friends there," he says, "well, not friends, but..."

"The Patriots have friends in Austen," I point out.

"We think the Patriots are plotting to kill some of the Texan officials."

"But, they're allys, why...?"

"Texas is still a threat. And they know it. We need evidence, of course."

"Would a vat of that gas we saw last month... would that be evidence?," Connor asks.

"If they were gassing Austen, maybe," Bass says. Connor looks at Charlie and she sighs, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket. She tosses it to the middle of the table.

"What the hell is this?," Miles asks. He unfolds it, and looks at it. "I still don't get it."

"Toss it here," Bass says. Miles does so, and he opens it. I lean forward to see sets of numbers, all down the page. One towards the bottom is circled. 3:45.

"Can I see it, please?," I ask. Bass hands it over and I squint to look in the corner. Finally, I see a date in the right hand corner. "It's a train brochure."

"What?," several people ask.

"It's a train brochure," I repeat, "all these times are different times a train will be running. I'm willing to bet that this time is the only time for this train, that they settled on. And in the corner, that's the date it's going." I point to it and hand it to Miles.

"Oh my God, she's right," Miles says. "You wanna bet there's mustard gas on that thing?"

"There is," a voice calls. We look up, and turn to see Heather standing there. "They tried to hide it, but my dad and I saw them carrying the stuff through Willoughby. After we ran, we saw it again, in this little town. Dad said it was a train town."

"Bet anything it's going to Austen," Miles says, and turns to Charlie, "how'd you get this?"

"Jason did it."

"I, um, interrogated my old CO this morning," he says, "that's why we got back late." It's quiet for a bit.

"I think-"

"I want to find my father," Heather says, "if y'all don't wanna help, that's fine. But I gotta go find him."

"Heather, you shouldn't be out on your own," I reply.

"Let's go get her father, then," Charlie says. "He knows stuff about the gas. Let's do it."

"We're gonna waste time finding some old guy?," Connor says, "No, no, I don't think so."

"No one said you _had_ to come, Connor," Charlie says, with an annoyed laugh.

"I'm just saying-"

"Hey, cut it out," Bass orders. "Let's take a vote. Go to get her father?" Everyone except Connor raises their hand Angie looks around, and then raises her hand too. Everyone chuckles, and even Connor lets out a small smile. "That settles that."

"Heather, come sit," I offer, "and we'll talk about getting your dad." She sits down.

"Well, sounds like you got this all worked out," a very, very unwelcome voice says, "what did I miss?"

* * *

_I laugh really hard as Bass makes another joke. Why is everything so funny?! I put a hand on the table and cough as I can't stop laighing._

_"Linds? Lindsay? You ok?," he asks._

_"I'm fine," I reply, giggling. I sputter out a few more coughs, then clear my throat. "I'm fine. Oh my goodness. Sorry."_

_"Don't apologize," he chuckles, "where's Miles?"_

_"Bathroom, I think," I reply. Rachel just smiles at the two of us, like she knows something. "What?"_

_"Nothing," she says, "Miles went to the car, I'll go check on him." She pats me on the shoulder on her way out. I realize Bass and I are alone. _

_"Well, ok," he says, noticing how odd she acted, "just us, then. You want another drink?"_

_"You!," I accuse, maybe too loud, "you would love to get me drunk. That's what you're doing, isn't it?"_

_"No," he laughs, "I'm trying to give you a good birthday is all." He looks at me and I get that tickly feeling in my stomach. The feeling I've been getting around Bass for over a year now. Not even when I'm around him, just when I think about him. Which I do a lot these days. And he loves me! I heard him tell Miles on the phone! Instead of telling me that I'm being ridiculous though, my brain tells me to lean in and kiss him, to rip off his clothes- no, no, no. No. That's insane. Damn, I drank too much. No. I'm not- no. Oh, God, but look at those eyes... I can feel, from memory, his hard, muscly chest... hidden under just a layer of cloth- I've got to get away from him. _

_"I've got to use the ladies' room," I whisper, choked. I stand and then nearly fall over._

_"Woah," he says, and stands to catch me. I put a hand on the table amd steady myself. _

_"I'm ok," I breathe, "but I don't have to go that bad." I sit back down next to him. _

_"Just wait until the hangover," he jokes._

_"Hm," I chuckle. I look up at him again to see him looking back, lighthearted, but still concerned. _

_"Maybe you should stop drinking," he says softly. Then, I don't want to kiss him or... anything. Well, I do want... to do those things. But not now. Now I just want to curl up with him, with music playing, while it's raining, until finally, he turns to me and presses his lips to mine very gently... _

_"I probably should," I whisper. He smiles and leans forward to push the drink away from me. His eyes fall on his watch. He said he loves me._

_"It's getting late, we should go find-"_

_"Bass?," I ask, my voice barely audible. He looks back up at me. Oh my God! Am I falling in love with Bass?! Have I been?! Am I actually in love with Sebastian Monroe?! Oh, hell, no, this is bad. Wait, why? Why is this bad again? If I love him, and he loves me...? Wait, no, he's Miles' best friend. He's... well, he's Bass. He's not my boyfriend! But, well... "you told Miles..."_

_"Told me what?," Miles calls. I jump and look up to see he and Rachel coming towards our table. "Why so jumpy, Linds?" _

_"She's had a little too much to drink," Bass chuckles, putting an arm around my shoulder. _

_"I can tell," he chuckles back, "Linds, you're not so drunk that you'll forget all about tonight, right?" God, I hope so._

_"I don't think so," I reply._

_"Good, you need to remember this," he says. He sits down and pulls out a small, circular box. He puts it in the middle of the table, then clears his throat, "Lindsay, you're twenty-one. That means you're no longer a kid, you're a woman. A Matheson woman. And, there's a tradition with Matheson women. Billions of years ago," he starts dramatically._

_"Miles, shut up," Rachel laughs._

_"Ok, like, a hundred years ago," he says, "our great-great- some number of greats- grandmother's father gave her something. She planned to give it to her daughter, but she only had boys. So, her oldest, Bartholomew-"_

_"We don't have a relative named Bartholomew," I cut him off._

_"Yeah, well, when mom told me this, I couldn't remember all the names."_

_"So you just used super old sounding ones?," Bass asks._

_"Yes, deal with it, I'm being sentimental," he snaps, "anyway, Bartholomew gave it to his little sister-in-law, Mildred on her twenty-first. And then Mildred gave it to her son Edgar, who gave it to his sister... um..."_

_"Ophelia," Bass suggests._

_"Uh, sure," Miles says, pointing at him slightly, "and so on and so forth. The point is, it's kind of a mother to son to sister thing. Well, yeah, so open it." I give him a quizzical look. I've never heard this story before. I reach forward to open the box and take out the thin gold chain. I pull it up until I see the centerpiece of it: a clock. If I put it to my ear, I can hear it ticking. Just like I could when I sat on mom's lap when I was little._

_"Mom's necklace?," I ask, "Oh, my God, Miles."_

_"Yours now," he says. He pulls out his phone and hands it to Bass. "Here, take a picture while I put it on."_

_"With your big, Casio, 80s brick phone? Uh, no, I'll use mine." _

_"Fine," he says, standing up. There are happy tears in my eyes as I stand up and Miles stands behind me. People in the bar are staring at us, but I don't care. I let out a gasp of joy as I feel the necklace fall after he clasps it, the back of the chain hitting my neck. _

_"Look this way, Linds," Bass calls. I do so, and smile. He snaps the picture. "Beautiful."_

_"You didn't even look at it," I say, with a small laugh._

_"Didn't have to," he replies. I smile. _

_"Ok," Miles laughs, "let's get you home before you two, like, kiss or something." I blush and grab my jacket. We walk out to Miles' car. I turn to them all before getting inside. _

_"Thank you, guys. All of you. It was a really great night."_

_"Any time," Miles says._

_"It was fun," Bass says._

_"Happy Birthday, Linds," Rachel says._

_"I love you guys," I say._


	13. No Doubt

At first, I think it's just me hallucinating again. But then, I see Jason's hand tighten on the table. Charlie places her hand overtop his and they both glare up at him.

"Tom," Miles says, annoyed, "have a seat."

"Thank you, Miles," Neville replies. His eyes find me and he nods, "Lindsay." Then I realize he's real. He's here. The same guy that gave me over to Truman, and to Bass, and beat me up in Philly. The guy that killed my first child. My arms tighten around Angela, as he goes to sit on the other side of me, where Nora had been. Angela whines, most likely from being around an unfamiliar person.

"Well, that's just unfair," he smirks. I shriek as his hand pulls the chair out, and I stand up before he can sit next to me.

"Lindsay, it's ok," Bass says.

"He killed my baby!," I cry, holding Angela as far away from him as possible.

"Now, come on, I said I was sorry."

"Get the hell out of here!," I scream, "get the hell away from us!" Angela begins whining. She looks at my distraught face, and then to Neville, then back at me. Seeing my angry, scared tears, she starts crying.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Gene glares at Bass, "take Angie out of here. Miles, take your sister back to her room."

"No! No!," I scream. "I have a right! I have a right to be here!"

"Lindsay," Bass says, softly, "let me take the baby. Ok? Let her go with her daddy, and I'll get her far away from here. Then you can go somewhere, and get away from him."

"No," I insist, "I'm fine. I'm ok... but I don't want to sit next to him. I'll stand."

"Lindsay, please-"

"No! I want to be here!," I insist. Bass looks at Gene, and Miles, who's half risen from the table.

"Ok," Bass says, "alright."

"Sit down," I say quietly, my fingers brushing his cheek. "I'm ok."

"Ok," he says reluctantly. Neville takes his seat, and I move to Bass' other side, then back up a few steps.

"Well, then," Neville says, "same old, same old. How is everyone else? Jason, haven't seen you in a while, you've been holed up with that girl of yours."

"Tom, you're not here to talk," Miles says, "shut up."

"Apologies," he says. "What's the plan?"

"We're going to find Heather's dad," Miles says, nodding to her.

"Then what?," Scanlon asks.

"I'm about ninety percent sure that the gas is heading to Austen, so we're gonna have to go there. Thoughts?"

"There's a lot of guys from my unit there," Jason says, "someone could call my number, and I'll go crazy."

"Maybe Jason should stay behind," Connor suggests.

"No, not an option," Charlie says, and puts her arm around Jason, "we need him."

"Rachel, Gene, what do you think?"

"Well," Gene says, "depends on what you'd be planning on doing there. If you're gonna be doing an excessive amount of fighting, I'll have to come for medical help."

"I'm coming," Rachel says. Miles nods.

"Linds?," he asks. Everyone looks at me.

"Going to Austen sounds dangerous," I reply, "and it sounds like everyone will have to go. I don't want to be here alone...," I look Miles in the eye, "I want to come."

"Woah, woah, wait," Bass says, "what about the baby? No way, too dangerous. For both of you."

"Well, you think we'd be any safer here?," I ask, "we barely know the area, we're minutes away from a camp full of teenagers who could kill us, and there's not going to be anyone here to protect us?"

"She's got a point, Bass," Miles says.

"So what do you suggest?," Bass asks.

"Let me come," I insist, "We'll find a safe house, or a safe camp, something and-"

"Oh! So we just put you and our infant daughter in the open, so you can get brutally murdered! Great plan, Linds, really."

"Hey, don't talk to me like that!," I snap back, "I'm basically out in the open here-"

"Oh, right, and then there's the mustard gas!"

"I could help-"

"You could-? Please! I don't need to be worrying about you when I'm-"

"Don't you dare!," I exclaim, "Don't try and use some man-protects-the-woman bravado on me!"

"I swore I'd protect you!"

"Well, so did I!," I shout, "I vowed to protect my family. And I didn't just mean you and Angela. I meant Miles and Rachel and Charlie and everyone! They're my family, Bass!"

"Lindsay, I said no!"

"You don't own me!"

"I'm your _husband!"_

"That doesn't mean you can boss me-"

"Ok!," Miles shouts, "Enough! Bass, calm the hell down or you can stay here. Lindsay, what exactly are you wanting?"

"I want to come," I say, exasperated, "I want to go to Austen, and do whatever you guys need me to do. And I want to fight."

"What about the baby?," he asks.

"She can come," I say, "I'm not saying I want to fight all day. And Bass and I and everyone can take turns, just like we do when you're all home. I just don't... I don't want to be alone, and I don't want to be useless."

"Linds, you're not useless," Gene says.

"You could use my help," I turn to him, "you insist I learn all this medical stuff, but at the end of the day, what am I doing? Stitches and bandaging? I could've learned that in high school, Gene!"

"Lindsay, I'm sorry, but for once I agree with your husband on this one."

"Gene, please," I snap.

"Sorry, sweetie," Neville says, "it's best if you stay here, have dinner ready-"

"Oh, you shut up," I roll my eyes, "I am done with you. For God's sake, you people trust this guy but not me?"

"It's not that we don't trust you, Lindsay," Rachel says. "It's just that-"

"Not _you_ too!," I shout in exasperation.

"Ok, ok, we'll put it to a vote," Miles says.

"No!," I yell. I walk over to him, "Miles, no. We don't get to take a vote on this because it's not up to everyone else. It's up to me."

"I don't have a say in my baby's life?," Bass asks.

"She will be fine," I insist, "I will be fine. I'm coming. You're not going to stop me." They're all quiet, but Bass looks ready to argue. "You'd stop me? What- what would you do? Would you tie me up, Bass? Would you tie me up to keep me from leaving?"

"Lindsay-"

"You won't," I say quickly, keeping tears back, "You won't do that to me again." Angela whines a little, and I look down at her. "I've got to go."

"I'll come with you," Charlie says, surprising me.

"No, that's alright. Stay here."

"Nope, I'm coming," she says, and stands up. "Gentlemen, mom, Heather: this meeting is over. We're getting Heather's dad, going to Austen, and Lindsay is coming with us. Now, please, go back to your normal lives. Neville, get the hell out." I'm already on my way down the hallway, before she finishes. I know she's on my heels, or someone is, anyway. "Lindsay! Lindsay, wait!"

"I'm ok, Charlie," I say as she catches up to me, "But thank you."

"It's nothing," she shrugs, "their man-protects-woman bravado got on my nerves too. But listen, I need to know that you're sure about this. That you won't get hurt."

"Honestly, I want to go so bad because I don't feel safe here," I admit, "not by myself. Not yet. I feel like... I need to be with you guys. And I do think Gene could use my help."

"Then I stand by what I said," she nods. She's quiet for a bit. "How have you been?"

"I haven't seen your brother since that first time," I reply.

"That's not what I asked," she says.

"But it's what you want to know," I reply.

"Does anyone know but me?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

"No. Because it's not going to happen again."

"After today, you mean?"

"I didn't see anything today," I lie.

"Sure," she says, "Lindsay, really. What do you think is happening?"

"Nothing. I had a panic attack, it's nothing. I see Tr... you know, I see Trum-Truman all the time, and no one worries about my sanity then."

"Because seeing my brother isn't driven from fear, or flashbacks or anything." She's right, I know she is.

"I appreciate the concern, but I am fine," I say, "I've got to feed the baby, so I'll see you later."

"Lindsay," Charlie calls.

"Yeah?," I ask, half turning towards her.

"I'm here for you," she says, "you know that, right?" I pause, and then feel guilty for having been so short with her.

"I know. Thank you."

"Of course," she says, "I'll see you later."

* * *

**Night of the Blackout**

_A few cries emerge from the building. They're going to go crazy. What do I do? I can't drive obviously... there's a knocking on my door. Looters? Already? I freeze._

_"Linds, it's Miles and Bass." I sigh in relief and open up. The two boys charge in, looking through my cabinets._

_"Gee, I'm glad I didn't let in two burglars." I say half heartedly. Miles throws anything I missed into an empty bag he brought and runs to the other rooms. Bass comes over and hugs me. "Is now really the time to-"_

_"Just tell me you're ok," He says._

_"I'm fine, Bass." I hug him back._

_"Good. Let's go." Miles says, handing me my now heavy pack._

_"Where are we going?" I ask._

_"Back to base." He replies, avoiding my eye."We're going to have to sneak you in."_

_"Wait- what?!," I ask incredulously, "you can't- no! No way!"_

_"It'll be easy," Miles says, "the power is off, so they don't have any motion sensors or anything."_

_"Just guys standing by the gate," Bass adds, "we'll get you in around the back, climb over the fence, and then we'll go in like normal." _

_"But-but what if I get caught?," I ask. They ignore me. Miles is throwing nonperishables into a bag, Bass is trying to turn on his phone. "Guys! Seriously! I-I think this is ridiculous! I..." _

_"Linds, hey," Bass says, wrapping his arms around me, "stop freaking out, alright? It's ok." I peer over his arm as I bury my face into his chest and see Milee peeking out the blinds._

_"They're flooding the streets," he says, "we gotta go before they start setting fires." I bite my lip, and look away. I don't want to go. I want to light candles and eat leftover pie with my brother and my... ugh, boyfriend. God, I hate that word. But it's a lot more tolerable when it's applied to Bass. Anyway, even the lights never do come back on, we'll be ok. Because I'm safe when I'm with Bass and Miles. "C'mon!" _

_"Miles, dammit, she's scared," Bass snaps. I scoff, and pull away from him. _

_"I'm not scared," I reply, "I just think you need to think this through."_

_"We did," Miles says, running a hand through his hair, "on the run over here. Not the drive, Lindsay. Not even the walk. The run. We ran. Now let's go." I give him an uncertain look. He sighs and then softens his voice. "Ok, look. I know, you're scared. But hey, I am too. Ok? I'm confused and scared, and you know what? A little pissed that even when he's talking nonsense, Ben's always right." I smile a little and laugh. "See? You're fine. Now we need to get going. Ok?"_

_"Ok," I say finally, to myself. Then I look at them both, and say out loud, "ok, let's go." _

_"First thing's first," Miles says, "you gotta change out of that dress." I look down at my brown and black striped dress and nod. _

_"I'll be right back," I say, and go to my room. I change quickly into jeans and a t-shirt, then put on some Converse. When I come back out, Bass kisses my head. _

_"It's gonna be ok," he says, and takes my hands into his. He slips some plastic into my right one. I look down to see his picture on a military ID card. I look up at him. We're so close that just by looking up, our lips are almost touching. "If you get caught, you tell them you found this at the bar and were looking for me, you understand?" I nod slightly._

_"Where's Miles?," I ask, my voice soft. I don't look around though, for all I know, he's in the corner, rolling his eyes. _

_"He went to find a way out the back," he whispers, his breath touching my face. I look into his eyes, his so very, very blue eyes. And I feel safe. I'm not filled with fear anymore, but rather regret. There's so many things I can't do for him now. I should've done more for him. I should've kissed him a long time ago. Two years ago. We should've gone to more movies, just us. And gone on vacations and long drives to the beach. We should've gotten a radio and some heated blankets and gone to the woods. We should've cooked together. _

_"I was making you a pie," I say quietly. _

_"I know, I got the pictures."_

_"It was apple, it's halfway done," I murmur, "it's still there, in the oven. I was going to bring it to you tomorrow, and-"_

_"Lindsay," he interrupts. I stop talking and become conscious of his hand, moving down my back, stopping just above my waistline. I bring a hand up to stroke his face, and then run my fingers through his curly hair. His other hand is on my face too, and he pulls me closer, so our bodies are touching. _

_"Miles will be wondering-"_

_"He can wait," he whispers, into my ear, his voice sending shivers down my spine. I feel desire start to pool in my center. _

_"But we have to go."_

_"Not yet," he replies, lacing his fingers into my hair at the back of my head. "Let us have this moment, Linds." I don't really want to, though. I mean, yes, I do- I want him. I mean, how could I not? Hell, if he ever lets his facial hair grow out... but I don't want to now. Or even soon. I want to wait. I love him, I think. But I waited with Mark, because I knew he wasn't the right guy, and if he was, he'd be patient and would let me wait. I guess it's a kind of test. And I knew he would fail. God, why did I ever let that relationship go on for so long? I have no idea. But I want to do the same with Bass. Wait, and see if we'll work._

_ But he really, really wants to do it now. With our bodies pressed together, I can feel it. _

_"Bass, we should-"_

_"Linds, c'mon," he says, "everything is going to get super confusing soon. Everyone around us will be freaking out. So let's do something that makes sense." He lowers his lips to mine, and I kiss him back. I let him start to pull my shirt off, but I make no move to undress him. I'm just about to think 'what the hell?' when the door opens. _

_"What the hell?," Miles asks, "guys, really? God. Keep it in your pants, Bass, let's go." My face red and hot, I pull my shirt down and pick up the bag Miles had packed for me. I put it on and stand beside him. _

_"Let's go," I mutter. He sighs and opens the door. _

_"Ladies first," he says. I glance back at Bass. He smiles and gives a small shrug and mouths 'oh well'. I smile the tiniest but and walk out the door, the two men behind me, just like always._

* * *

I know Bass is waiting outside the door, in the reception area, just watching me. I could acknowledge him. But I'm still pretty upset with him. Angela is asleep in a basket filled with blankets. I pretend to be reading my boring neuro textbook. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him walk forward, and gently tap on the door.

"Come in," I call shortly. The door opens, and he walks in.

"We need to talk," he says, quietly.

"I'm a little busy here, Bass," I reply, nodding to the book. I turn the page.

"Lindsay," he pleads. I almost falter, but then I think about his face when I told him he couldn't tell me to stay here. It was such a mix of hurt and anger... oh, God, my head hurts. "Linds, I've gotta talk to you."

"Talk then," I say, and try to pretend like I'm reading while I listen to him. He sighs.

"Fine."

_Abnormal Conditions of the brain; section 1: growths_

"Linds, I know you're angry at me..."

_Tumors:_

"But you have to understand where I'm coming from..."

_Unlike most tumors, it is rare that one will be able to feel a brain tumor by it's growth._

"I mean, we have a kid, Linds."

_However, there are other ways of detecting a brain tumor. _

"I honestly wasn't trying to control you or dominate you or something."

_Signs of a tumor include:_

"I was just worried about you. You and Angela."

_Headaches_

"Look, I just... I saw Emma in the back of mind."

_Nausea_

"You know, I lost someone I loved by dragging them in front of guns, literally..."

_Extreme mood swings_

"And I guess I feel like I'm doing the same thing here."

_Paranoia_

"You know, like, if I wasn't fighting, you wouldn't be either."

_Dizziness_

_ Fatigue_

"Oh, God, this is all my fault," he says. I look up. He sits in the chair and puts his head in his hands.

"No, it's not," I say quietly. He looks up.

"What?"

"It's not your fault. This isn't your decision to make, it's mine. And we'll be fine. Me and the baby. We'll be ok."

"I'm just so scared you'll get hurt, Linds," he says.

"I'll be fine. I'll be safe," I sigh and look at him, "I'm sorry I got so angry. I honestly don't know what came over me. I just... I don't know." It's like when I was pregnant and had random mood swings.

"It's ok," he says, "I'm sorry I made you think I was trying to over power you."

"It's ok," I reply, and smile. I lean up to kiss him and by moving, my head hurts again. I lean back after only a short peck.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, just-just a headache," I reply, and close my eyes. I yawn, "I'm fine."

"I'll let you rest then," he says, "I'm going to take Ang back to the house." He leans over to kiss me. "And tonight, you can come home."

"Oh, thank God," I breathe.

"I'll see you later," he says.

"Love you," I reply.

"Love you too," he murmurs. He pulls away, and picks up the baby carefully, making sure she doesn't wake up. Then he smiles at me and walks out, shutting the door behind him. I lean back. While the light does hurt my eyes, my eyes aren't very tired. But my head is, and the rest of me. I decide to read some more, to tire out my eyes. I scan what I've already read, but wasn't really paying attention to... Oh, it's just side effects. Ok, where was I? Let's see... I remember something about dizziness. Here.

_Dizziness_

_Fatigue_

_Hallucinations_

_Sensitivity to- _

Wait. Hallucinations? Like I've been having? Wait, what am I reading about? My eye flick up to the top of the page. Brain tumors. No way. There's no way it's that. But wait... all of the symptoms... I have all of them so far, I think! No, this is impossible! I read through the list again: headaches, nausea, mood swings, paranoia, dizziness, fatigue, hallucinations, sensitivity to light... I've had all of these!

I've had headaches for while now, and nausea... I had that when Bass and I got back from Willoughby. 'Post capture jitters' is what I credited it to. Mood swings, yes, I got so angry, so fast earlier today. And obviously my sex drive has been acting crazy. It's like I'm a different person. Paranoia, yep. I mean, after everything I've been through, paranoia is normal. But to suddenly get so scared of Bass again? That's weird. Dizziness... did I not pass out yesterday? Fatigue, well, that could be a product of everything else, but yes. And hallucinations... _yeah,_ I've had hallucinations. Oh my God.

"Oh my God," I breathe out loud.

"Did your brain just explode, Linds?," Nora asks. I look over to see her in the chair by the bed, her feet up on the bed, the attached table pulled towards her. On it, are her favourite deck of cards, faded to a pinkish colour, some of the faces having moustaches drawn on them. She always had that deck in her pocket. She'd told me why they were so important once. "Um, no hi? C'mon, Linds, I thought we were friends."

"This is impossible," I say, looking over her face. I look down at her stomach, sure I'll see a bullet wound.

"Uh, is it?," she asks, smirking. "C'mon, Linds, let's play cards."

"No!," I shout, then quiet my voice, "No, you're not real. There's no way."

"Ugh, am I gonna have to kiss you like Garrett did?," she asks.

"You don't know Garrett," I whisper, "you never met him."

"Correction: I never met him here," she replies, "up there... he's a nice guy."

"Up there? You mean heaven?"

"C'mon, just let me deal you in," she whines, leaning back, "what do you want to play? Texas or Vegas style?"

"I don't want to play, Nor- whoever you are!"

"Ugh, fine," she sighs, "we'll play some kid's games. Blackjack? Speed? Ooh, I'm definitely feeling a game of bull."

"What the hell is this?"

"Ok, I don't remember you being this boring."

"Just stop! I don't want to play cards!"

"Ok, I'm sorry," she says, and pockets the deck.

"So what is this? I have a brain tumor? That's it?"

"Maybe," she shrugs, sitting up, "maybe you're just crazy."

"But all these side effects...?"

"Post capture jitters," she says.

"But, Bass..."

Her smile falls, "Yeah, I don't know about that one."

"So you think that's it? You think I'm sick?"

"No, I don't think so."

"So what do you thinks wrong with me?"

"Nothing," she replies, "Maybe I wanted to come and sew you."

"So you're telling me you guys are just like ghosts, basically, visiting me because you feel like it?"

"Basically," she grins again.

"That makes no sense," I argue, "it's great for a plot of sci-fi movie, but in real life? No way."

"Lindsay, in real life the power shut off and was being controlled by an evil group of scientists who killed me." At the mention of her death, I look away.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," I whisper.

"What? Run out to hit the tripwire? Yeah, I did."

"No, you didn't!," I insist, "we could've found another way to get them."

"You got the power back on, though," she says. I look at her.

"You don't know...?," I ask. How can she not know?

"What?," she asks.

"No, you have to know! Danny knew..."

"We're not all knowing, Lindsay," she says, "it's just like on earth. I don't know everything he knows, he doesn't know everything I know. So tell me what's up."

"The power came back on... for, like, two seconds. And Randall Flynn... he bombed Philly and Atlanta. The rebels didn't win... the Republic is just gone."

"Oh," she says in surprise, "wow. Have you seen any of them...?"

"Rebels? No."

"Or militia? Monroe?" Oh not again.

"Nora," I say quietly, "I've seen Monroe a lot since then."

"What? Did he hurt you?"

I bite my lip, concentrating on the pain rather than how much I hate telling her this. Then I shake my head, "no."

"Well, where is he?"

"He's... with the baby. Our baby."

"Wait, he... he's here? Now?," she asks, I nod. "So what? Did he come to Jasper and-"

"How'd you know I was in Jasper?," I ask.

"Garrett told me," she says quickly, "so did you have the baby in Jasper and then he came or did he capture you and... how old was the baby when he showed up?"

"He was their at her birth," I whisper.

"Oh. Oh, wow," she says. She's surprised. But not... judging. Nora never was one to judge people quickly. "Wait, _she?_ And you thought it was going to be a boy."

"No, I always thought-," I stop, realizing that we're not talking about the same baby. She doesn't know! She doesn't know what happened that night at the Tower! "Nora?"

"Oh, _that_ voice," she says, "there's a lot more to this story than I think, isn't there? Ok, tell me."

"I lost the baby at the Tower," I whisper, "there was a shoot out and... I got shot..."

"So the baby isn't Bass'?"

"No, it- it is," I reply, "she's his."

"Wait...," her lips part in confusion, "what?"

"Nora, Bass and I are married," I say slowly.

"What?," she asks again, "you're... wait, who... ok, tell me everything."

* * *

_I sit on the bed in the bunk that Bass and Miles told me to go, keeping quiet like they told me to. But I'm freaking out, and it's not easy to keep your crying quiet. I don't know how long it's been. We got here around back, and they helped me climb the fence. After that it was no problem to get here. They said they had to go in through the main gate and to wait. I think that was ten minutes ago. There's no clock in here. _

_What if they got caught? Or they wouldn't let Bass in without ID? What if someonw comes and throws me out and Bass and Miles have to stay and I'm alone? No, no, no, I can't be alone! Not now! _

_"Linds, dammit, open the door!," Miles hisses through the wood. I jump and run to get the door. I open it. Miles looks around before walking in, making sure no one saw it._

_"I didn't think I locked it," I whisper. _

_"You didn't," Bass replies, "it locks automatically."_

_"Oh," I say, and hand him his card and key back. _

_"Thanks," he mutters, kissing my head._

_"So what now?," I ask, hanging onto Bass' arm as he cross it over my chest to hold me. His other hand is wrapped around my waist. _

_"Now," Miles says, taking off his jacket, "we wait for orders."_

_"What if you have to leave?," I ask. _

_"Then we'll leave," Miles replies. _

_"But what about me?," I ask, leaning farther into Bass. _

_"We'll get you out, ok? You'll be safe." _

_"Miles," I say, "maybe we should leave. Go to Chicago, and find Ben?" _

_"Can't do that, Linds," he says, "gotta stay here, wait for orders."_

_"But-"_

_"Lindsay, we can't," he says firmly, "the world may have gone to hell, but we're still Marines. And we're gonna do whatever needs done. Ok?"_

_"Ok," I murmur. He sighs and looks at me._

_"It's gonna be ok, alright?" _

_"Ok," I repeat. Bass turns me around while Miles closes the blinds tightly. _

_"He's not lying," he says, putting his hands on my hips and pulling me closer. "We'll be fine."_

_I give a small smile. "I know."_

_"I'm sorry we didn't get to finish what we started earlier."_

_"That's ok," I reply. A chill sweeps through the room and I shiver. _

_"You ok?"_

_"Yeah, it's just a lot colder at night than I thought," I murmur._

_ "Yeah, well, no heaters," he says, "c'mon, why don't you sleep and I'll keep you warm?" I smile and lay down. He lays down next to me and pulls the blankets over us. He presses himself closer and wraps his arms around me, my body heat rising. I smile at how comfortable I am and watch Miles' silhouette sit on his bed and pull out 'The Stand' by Stephen King. He lights a candle next to him and lays down to read it. I drift off before I can make a remark about Miles, actually reading._

* * *

"Wow," Nora says, when I'm finished. Then she lifts her deck from her pocket, "So I'm gonna deal, and I'm thinking Texas style."

"Wait, you're-you're not mad?," I ask in shock.

"No," she says, and looks at her hand, "it's your life. Granted, it's not what I would've done, but it isn't me we're talking about."

"I miss you Nora," I say. Nora never judged me. Ever. She'd give me advice, and she'd joke around like she was judging but she never really was. She smiles at me, and pushes my hand towards me.

"Well, I'm here now," she says, "let's play."

"Hey," I say softly, relaxing.

"Yeah?"

"You want to know what my daughter's name is?"

"Lay it on me."

"Nora," I say. She looks up. "Nora Angela." A wide grin breaks out over her face.

"Why me?"

"Because you're brave," I reply, "and smart. And you fought with your life. You fought for what you believed in until the very, very end." She gives a little smirk and then says something that is so Nora that I can easily forget that she isn't real, that I may be crazy.

"Did you ever doubt it?"

* * *

**Author's Note: So, wow. What'd you think of that chapter? Crazy, right? What do you think? Think Lindsay really does have a tumor? ****And how about the flashbacks... did Bass push her too much? Let me know what you guys think! I love feedback!**


	14. Everybody

**Author's note: I might a slight change. The flashbacks in this chapter take place four weeks after the Blackout, whereas in the show it was eight weeks, I think. But this story is bettwr served with two weeks, so. Review, please! Ok, that's all!**

* * *

"Hey, what are you doing?," Nora calls. I look over my shoulder to see her leaning against the wall next to the bed.

"Hey," I call, "I thought you had to go."

"Oh, that was hours ago," she says, with a shrug, "so what are you doing?"

"I'm packing," I reply, putting the past day's clothes and my books and Angela's stuff into a pack. "I'm going home tonight."

"Oh, home," she chuckles, "that little red house you keep smiling about?"

"Yes," I say, "and be nice, I haven't had an actual house in a long time."

"Hey, no judging here," she says, "so when do I get to meet Nora Jr.?"

"I don't know," I reply, "are you gonna come visit me at the house?"

"No, sorry, I only like hanging out in hospital rooms," she says seriously, then smiles, "Linds, of course I am." I just nod. She sighs. "...But you don't want me to."

"It's not that," I say quietly. I'm still not sure how to deal with seeing her. I mean, it's easier when it's Nora rather than Garrett, who everything was awkward with, or Danny, who I barely knew. Still... am I crazy? But then... Aaron saw things, and he wasn't crazy. Of course, that was the nannites. But maybe it wasn't. I mean, they seem to have left him alone now. I don't know what to think. "I just... I'm confused is all."

"Well, I would be too," she says. And then there's this tumor or whatever? Is that really a possibility? And if I tell Bass... he won't let me fight, no way. He won't let me go to Austen either. So when do I tell him? After we go to Austen? After we've won the war? Ever? Could I die from this?

"She's in here," I hear Neville say. At the sound of his voice, I jump and take a step back, turning to the door. I look over to see that Nora is still there, and she's glaring at him too. When I turn my attention back to Tom, his wife is by his side.

"Julia," I say in surprise. I haven't seen her in nearly six years, maybe seven. But we used to have tea sometimes, and just make small talk. But I liked her a hell of a lot more than the other officer's wives. She was more... real. I guess because her husband was a lying sack of... I breathe to calm myself down. "What-what are you doing here?"

"I heard you were here," she replies, "and I wanted to see you."

"Oh," I say, and glance at Nora, then down at my hands. "Um... why?"

"Tom, may we have a moment?," she asks. Her husband nods and walks out. She looks at me. "May I come in?" I nod slowly. As she comes closer, I notice she has a long scar running from her hairline on the left to just above her right cheekbone. I recall Jason telling me the Patriots had tortured her. My eyes widen slightly upon seeing it, but I quickly mask my shock, realizing I'm being rude.

"Woah," Nora mutters, coming to stand beside me, "what happened to Lady MacNeville?" Nora had nicknames for a lot of people in Philly. Jeremy was 'Sad Puppy', Faber was '90s hair'... the list went on and on. She didn't like the 'Wives Club' as she called it. She told me that she'd heard too many of them trashing rebels and calling them, others, and each other whores, but then acting like perfect ladies when they were around a large group.

I'm not saying she was wrong either. Except maybe about Julia. But they were really the only female friends I could have, besides her. But she was a bounty hunter, she could never stay for long. Still... I preferred officer's meetings to their wives' tea parties.

"It's ok," she says, as I quickly avert my eyes yet again, "I know it's not something you could miss." She gives a small chuckle, "you should've seen Tom's face when he saw it."

"I'm sorry," is all I have to say.

"That's alright," she says. "So how are you?"

"I'm... I'm good, thank you."

"Lindsay, really," she chuckles, "this isn't a tea party, you don't have to lie anymore."

"I know," I say with a small smile, "but it's true. I'm going to Austen with my family soon."

"And my son?," she asks. I nod.

"Your husband too."

"Oh, no, he isn't going," she says. At my look of confusion, she continues, "They say they need someone to keep an eye out here. But we all know it's because they don't trust him. And that's fair, I suppose." When she looks away quickly, the same way I looked away from her, I wonder if she knows. If she knows how horribly her husband treated me, or how he's constantly being a condescending sexist pig, or that he killed my baby. The last part is answered as she says, "I don't know if he's said anything, but I apologize deeply for what happened that night in Colorado. Tom never might to kill your child."

"No, just me," I retort. Nora snorts. Julia looks down. I realize she didn't know. She never knew what her husband was going to pull next. "Um, I... I'm sorry, Julia, I didn't mean to be rude, not to you, I just... your husband..."

"My husband is not the best of people," she says, "don't think I don't know that."

"I'm sorry," I say, yet again. "But why did you come to see me now? After all this time you've been only a few miles away from me?"

"Well, because I didn't know if you'd want to see me," she says, "but Tom brought me up here, and I thought I'd give it a shot. I'd like you to know that of all the women in Philadelphia, you were my favourite."

"Not Anita Faber?," I ask, with a small smile, knowing she hated the woman.

"Oh, Anita Faber was a whore," she scoffs. I glance at Nora.

"Oh, no, that's true, actually," she says, shuffling her cards, "She was banging a new guy at least every time I came into Philly." I give her a look. "What? I was a bounty hunter, I knew things."

"Uh, what are you looking at?," Julia asks me.

"What?," I ask, snapping my attention back to her, "Oh! That painting above the bed, it's... I think I've seen it before."

"Well, I should hope so," she chuckles, "it's Van Gogh's sunflowers. Even I know that one." I look at it (for the first time), and laugh.

"Oh, right," I say, "it's just it's been so long since I've seen any real art."

"I know what you mean," she says.

"Hey, Linds," Bass says, coming into the room, with Angela. "We can leave when- Oh, hi, Julia."

"Sebastian," she says with a curt not.

"Linds, I pulled a cart around the front," he says to me, "we'll go whenever you're ready. I'll go ahead and take your bags down."

"Oh, no, it's just this one," I say, slightly lifting the one in my hands.

"Well, less work for me then," he smiles, and walks over to me, taking the bag. He kisses my cheek. "Here, we'll trade." He slips Angela into my arms. "I'll see you."

"Ok," I nod. He smiles at Julia and leaves the room. She turns her attention back to me.

"Your girl is beautiful," she says.

"Thank you," I say proudly, smoothing back her curly hair that I know she got from Bass.

"What's her name again? Jason's told me a few times, but..."

"Angela," I reply, "Uh, Nora Angela." I look over at Nora, who's looking at my baby with something like tears in her eyes. I have a burst of pain in my heart as I remember what she'd told me. She lost a child too. She knows what I went through... "Um, Julia, I'm sorry to do this, but I'd like to get changed before I go."

"Oh, of course," she says, "it was nice seeing you. Maybe we could have tea sometime? Like the old days?"

"I'd like that," I smile, "Bye." She nods, and leaves the room. I look over to Nora.

"She's... Lindsay, she's beautiful," she whispers.

"Thank you," I say. "Would you- uh, wait, can you hold her?" Garrett kissed me, Danny hugged me, so surely...

"I could," she nods, "but to her, it'd be like she was floating, and that might... that might scare her."

"Oh, right," I say. She looks sad.

"Why, um," she clears her throat, "why Angela?"

"That was Bass' sister's name," I reply softly, "his youngest. You know that his family...?"

"Yeah," she says. "She really is beautiful. Is she good?"

"Yes," I say, with a smile, "she's crawling, babbling... Connor carved her these wooden blocks, and she really loves them."

"Connor?"

"Oh, Bass' son."

"Wow," she says, and laughs, "you've got a rapidly growing family."

"Well, Connor isn't really mine," I argue, "and I don't try to call myself his mother."

"But he's family," she says.

"Yes, he is," I murmur. "I should go."

"Yeah, me too," she says.

"Will I see you later?"

"Of course," she says, and smiles, "who would want to miss tea with Lady McNeville?"

* * *

**Four weeks after the Blackout**

_I sob, inconsolable, into Miles' shirt, between his shoulder and his collarbone. He smooths down my hair and tries to calm me down, but it's no use. There's a knock at the door. _

_"C'mon, Linds," Miles whispers, "into the closet." _

_"Miles, I c-can't!," I burst, the images filling my mind. One month, and they're dead. From disease, from thirst, from hunger, slayed by bandits, some killed themselves. I could see their bones. A woman's clothes were torn and she was bloody. Her eyes were still open, and the last expression she ever wore was fear. Fear and pain. _

_"You have to," he says, "you wanna get caught? No? Then let's go." Another knock. "Lindsay, please." I take a deep breath and hurry into their closet, shutting the door. I hear Miles open the door. _

_"Sergeant Matheson," someone acknowledges. _

_"Major," he replies, and I know he's saluting. "Any orders?"_

_"Just the standing ones," the major says, "stay put and await further action."_

_"Yes, sir." _

_"Where's Monroe?" _

_"He went to get our rations."_

_"I'm here," I hear Bass say. From the slit between the closet doors, I see him come in the room, holding a brown paper bag. "What's going on?"_

_"Just checking to see that no one went AWOL," the major says. _

_"Well, we're still here," Miles says._

_"I see that. Good day, sergeants." The door closes. The second it does, I scramble forward, pushing the doors open. I fling myself into Bass' arms after he barely gets the rations put down. A can of beans drops to floor, and rolls away. _

_"Hey, Linds," he chuckles, until he sees my tearstreaked face. "Good to see you t- hey. Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" _

_"I needed... lady products," I say in a whisper, "but you and Miles had to be here in case someone checked in so I begged Miles to let me go." _

_"Ok," he says slowly. "And...?"_

_"Bass, you don't know what it's like out there!," I whisper shout, closing my eyes, "there are dead people everywhere. The stores are all either empty or being controlled by guys with guns. I went into one to get my things, and I had nothing to pay with... the guy said he'd give it to me if I... you know, did him a favor." He looks angry, but he just nods. "I didn't know what to do, so I... I just..."_

_"Oh, Linds, tell me you didn't," Miles groans. _

_"What? Lindsay, did you- no! You did not give that guy a blow job!"_

_"Bass!," Miles hisses, "shut up!"_

_"No," I shake my head quickly, "no, but I pulled out the gun you gave me and- and he got scared and let me take what I needed." Both their faces fill with relief. "But on the way out? I saw so many dead people. And there was a family-" my voice breaks, "Just this little family of four, and the kids- the kids were around Charlie and Danny's age, Miles. And I just... what if I never see them again?"_

_"Lindsay, don't jump to concl-"_

_"What if Ben's dead, Miles?!," I ask, hyperventilating. "What if Rachel, and the kids, and Ben are dead? And I was supposed to be with them but I'm not and- oh, God!" I put my face in my hands and sob._

_"Linds, it's ok," Bass says. "It's alright, I'm sure your brother is fine, right Miles?" I look up at Miles, and he's giving the floor a very thoughtful look, like he's debating something in his head._

_"M-Miles?," I ask. He looks up suddenly, as if I broke him out of a deep trance. _

_"I'll be right back," he says. Before I can stop him, he grabs his bag, and walks out. _

_"Miles!," I call, and stand up, but Bass grabs my wrist. _

_"Sh-sh-shh," he murmurs, "quiet, Linds, ok?" He gently tugs on my wrist until I sit down. But rather than sit on his bed, in his lap, which I know he was going for, I sit on Miles' bed, and pull out my bag. I open it to find a book Miles gave me four years ago: 100 Historical Places in New England. In the middle, is where I kind of stuck pictures that I wanted to hold onto. "Linds?" I pull one out. It's of the four of us, me, Bass, and my two brothers. I guess I'm about nine. We're playing catch. I like it because Ben is so happy and that rarely happened. _

_"Ben didn't like sports much," I whisper, "but he liked to play catch because it's something he could do with us." _

_"Stop using pass tense," he says softly, "he's still alive." I just shake my head, a tear falling onto the picture. "I still have that ball, you know?" I look up. He's always throwing a ball around in here, but that it's the same one is amazing. _

_"It's... you've had it that long?," I ask._

_"Yep," he says, "It was my grandfather's."_

_"Oh," I say softly. After a few minutes, I've calmed down, and I'm eating the canned beans he gave me. He starts tossing the ball around, and I watch, trying to concentrate on that, and nothing else. That and the fact that I'm safe here. One of the safest places I could be is a military compound. As long as I don't leave, I should be ok._

_After maybe fifteen more minutes of ball throwing, and small talk, Miles comes back. He starts putting clothes and supplies into the bag he has, which I notice sags more than when he left. _

_"Miles, what're you doing?," Bass asks. _

_"I'm leaving, Bass," he says, without looking at either of us, "Lindsay, c'mon, grab your stuff." I stand up but look between him and Bass._

_"Miles, what- what do you mean you're leaving?"_

_"We're going to find Ben," he says, "they're not dead, I know it. If anyone was prepared for this thing, it was them. But we gotta get to them before it's too late. Before they run out of supplies, or we do, or they leave Chicago. So come on." I look at Bass, my eyes wide. confusion and panic. _

_"Ok, maybe you're overreacting," Bass says._

_"No, Bass, I'm not," he insists, "I have to leave, and I have to leave now. Linds, are you in or out?" I give him a worried look but start packing my things. _

_"Oh, Linds, really, uhh...," he sighs, his arm propped up on his knee as he rolls his baseball around in his hand, "you've gone insane, Miles, you know that right?"_

_"The rest of the world's gone insane," Miles argues, gesturing to me to indicate what I saw today, "I'm just keeping up."_

_"Ok, alright, well," he says casually, "one, you're going AWOL, k? Two, what are you gonna walk to Chicago?"_

_"I gotta find my brother," he says, putting some jeans into a bag. Mine's already packed, and I just sit on the bed, silently watching their exchange. _

_"It's like a thousand miles away," Bass argues, _

_"I'm not gonna just sit here!," he says, raising his voice, "everybody's just sitting here... waiting for orders that aren't gonna come."_

_"Ok," Bass says, so quietly that if I wasn't watching his face, I'm not sure I would've known he'd said it. He tosses the ball to his other hand and stands up, putting it into a bag. "Alright, let me pack."_

_"Wha- what?," Miles asks, the same time I do._

_"I'm coming with you," he says, glancing back at him._

_"No, no you're not," Miles insists, "I'm not dragging you into this." He checks the gun I gave back to him, and then loads it with a new clip, before putting it in the back of his jeans. Bass keeps packing._

_"Bass," I say softly. "It's going to be dangerous, walking through all that chaos."_

_"I know that," he says, "and I'm coming." I sigh. It will be dangerous. But I have to go. Because Ben's my brother. But Bass? He should get to stay here, and get fed every day, and sleep in a bed. _

_"Bass-_

_"It's my family," Miles says, "my problem."_

_"Well, you're my family," Bass says, turning to look him in the eye. "That make it my problem." He glances at me before looking back at Miles, "I'm not asking." Then he goes back to packing. After a few seconds, Miles nods. _

_"Ok, then," he says, and puts some last minute things into his bag. "Then let's go." _

_"Let's go," Bass agrees. I'm still in shock, to be completely honest. But Bass reaches out his hand for mine, and I slowly place it there. He pulls me up. He kisses me, then murmurs, "Time to go, Linds." I look at him for a long moment, and then kiss him back._

_"Let's go find our family," I whisper, and offer a small smile. "You, me, and Miles."_

_"You, me, and Miles," he repeats, "always."_

* * *

Bass kisses my temple, as I roll off of him and the curl up next to him. Maybe it'd because I've been in a hospital bed for two days and now I'm just overjoyed to be out of it, but that was _so_ good.

"Welcome home," he chuckles, pulling the blankets around us.

_"Now_ you say it," I laugh, kissing him.

"I was a bit preoccupied before," he argues. We both laugh.

"True," I agree, "so when are you going to get Heather's dad?"

"We're gonna start looking for him tomorrow morning," he says.

"Oh," I murmur. It's about seven p.m. now. "Who's all going?"

"Me, Miles, Charlie, Jason, Connor, obviously Heather, Scanlon, and Vincent. We're keeping its small, because he'll be so close to the training camp."

"Makes sense," I murmur, "then to Austen?"

"Depends on what he can tell us," he replies, "but most likely, yes."

"Ok," I say softly.

"Linds?"

"What?," I ask with a sigh, knowing he'll try to talk me out of going.

"When we get to Austen," he starts, surprising me. "Please, _please_ be really careful. You just... you keep having accidents and I'm so scared I'll lose you." I sit up to look him in the eye.

"I'll be careful," I promise, "I'll be ok."

"You know, when we saw you fall," he says, "we kind of thought you'd be fine, that you'd just fainted and you'd be fine. But you hit your head, Gene said it was probably a concussion. And you lost some blood, too... I was really worried..."

"What are you saying, Bass?," I ask softly.

"You just got home, just got better," he says, "I mean, Truman's only been dead for eight months-" I inhale sharply and stand up, not wanting to be close or intimate with anyone when Truman is in my head. It's too easy to imagine him holding me against the wall, forcing me to take off his clothes, after he had taken off mine. His lips- _stop._ Not now. I can't freak out in front of Bass. It'll make me seem weak and then no one will let me go to Austen. And as much as they all agreed it was my choice, I know that if _Miles_ is intent on me not going, I won't go. "I'm sorry, but all I'm saying is I just got to settle down with you. I don't want to lose you." I sit down on the edge of the bed.

"You know," I start softly, "that's not really fair of you to say that. I understand, you're worried about me going off and fighting. But, Bass, how do you think _I_ feel? Watching you and my whole family leaving and not knowing if you're coming back? I mean, yeah, someone usually stays with me, but knowing that you could die without me ever seeing you again? It's..." I trail off. "And, you know, I'm not even just talking about since this war with the Patriots started. Before that, in Philly, when you and Miles would leave, and even before that, before the Blackout, when you were a Marine! I mean, for _most_ of my life, Bass, you've left me to go fight and possibly die for one cause or another. It's been hell on me. So don't tell me to be careful, unless you can promise me that you'll be careful to." He's quiet for a long moment.

"I will," he says, and gestures for me to lay back down, "I promise. I will be careful. You and I will make it out of there alive. And then we'll come back here, and be happy with our baby. Ok?" I smile and nod a little, and then lay back down in his arms. "I love you, Lindsay."

"I love you too, Bass," I murmur. He grins and rolls, so he's above me, the blankets covering his bare back.

"You wanna go again?"

"I don't see why n-"

"Please don't," Connor calls through the door, and then I hear his footsteps retreat. Bass snorts, and props himself up and starts kissing my neck, and starts moving his lips downard.

"Wait," I gasp, as chills go up and down my spine, "wait, Bass."

"What?," he asks, coming back up.

"Is he ok?"

"Who?"

"Connor," I reply. Bass huffs and lays on his back.

"Yeah, I guess. Why?"

"Bass, come on," I say, looking at him, "you're his father."

"I know."

"And you haven't noticed anything is wrong? He's just been so upset lately. I think someone should talk to him."

"Well, I've tried if that makes you feel any better," he says, "he won't open up to me. You wanna try, be my guest." I look at him for a second, my hand still on his chest.

"Ok, then," I murmur, and stand up.

"Wha- I didn't mean right _now,"_ he complains. I roll my eyes, and pull on my clothes. After my tank top is on, I'm still cold, so I throw on Bass' flannel. Then, I go out of the room.

The house is three bedrooms, with me and Bass having one, Rachel and Miles one, and Charlie having one. Jason spends most nights with her. There's a small area where a dining table was, that's openly connected to the kitchen/living room. We removed the table and that's where Angela's crib and toys are. We pulled in a chair from the living room. Upstairs, there's a room that was an office, which is now Gene's room, and an open rec room type space, which is Connor's room. There's no door to that one, so when I get there, I knock on the wall next to the curtain that serves as a divider.

"Come in," Connor calls. I push the curtain back and come in. I haven't been up here since the day we moved in. It wasn't trashed before, I can say that. Now, there are clothes strewn about, and empty liquor bottles. Tacked to the wall by the futon, is Emma's picture. It seems to be the only well cared for thing in here. That includes Connor. He's got more stubble than usual, and his curly hair is disheveled all over. "Well, that was a quick one." He mutters, assuming Bass and I went ahead and did it again. "What do you want?"

"I was just checking on you," I reply, sitting in the old desk chair, next to a dusty PC. "You seem upset." He snorts.

"Yeah, ok," he mutters.

"Connor, really, what's wrong?," I ask.

"Nothing. I'm just peachy."

"No one ever says that and means it," I point out. He gives a dry chuckle.

"Yeah, well, I don't need your pity talks, Lindsay. Thanks for pretending to care. Go back to screwing my dad."

"Don't talk to me like that," I say softly, "and I'm not pretending. I'm worried about you."

"Well, that makes one then," he mutters.

"Connor, don't say that," I argue, "everyone here cares about you."

"They care? Really? Then tell me, Lindsay, why I got the crappiest room in the whole damn house?"

"You _chose_ this room!," I point out, "you could've had one downstairs, or Gene's or-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he snaps.

"So why'd you choose this one?"

"Doesn't matter," he mutters, "now can you go away so I can drink myself to sleep?" I tighten up a bit, remembering Bass saying those exact words, not too long before Miles left. When he was getting crazier and crazier. And I barely noticed.

"No," I say softly.

"Why not?," he sighs in exasperation.

"Because I spent a lot of days watching your father do that," I reply, and stand up. I take the bottle out of his hand, "and then he snapped." He looks up at me, and I see on his face he's already been drinking some.

"Everyone's got someone," he whispers. It's very un-Connor like sounding and I'm not too sure what to do. "I mean, you've got my dad. Miles has got Rachel. Charlie's got...," his voice breaks off, and he continues at normal volume, "Charlie's got Jason. But who do I have, huh?"

"Connor, we're all here-"

"Don't give me that," he snaps, "cause you know it's not what I meant. You know, I-I thought I had Charlie. For a little while. I mean, she said it was just casual sex, but I could make her smile. I m... she made _me_ happy. But then he came back. Her knight in shining Patriot uniform, and suddenly I've got no one again. You know, I chose this room cause it's the farthest away from theirs.."

"Connor, she's in love," I whisper, "if you want her to be happy, you have to let her be with the man she loves. And you'll find someone, I promise. You'll find a wonderful person that is head over heels for you."

"Yeah, well, I don't exactly believe in love at first sight," he spits.

"You want to know something?," I ask, and sit next to him, "neither do I. Not love. Now, I believe _liking_ at first sight can happen for some people. I don't know, maybe it happened for Miles and Rachel. Or maybe even for your father. But me... It took me about thirteen years to realize I even _liked_ Bass."

"Yeah, but you were kids when you met," he points out.

"True," I agree, "but I think he liked me the first time he met me. Connor, love isn't about who doesn't ditch you after you sleep with them."

"Then what's it about?," he asks.

"I think it's... different for each person," I reply, "but I think you'll know." I stand up.

"Are you sure my dad's in love with you?," he asks, surprising me.

"Yes," I say immediately.

"Lindsay, c'mon," he says, "if he really did love you, why did he hurt you so badly?" I take a deep breath.

"He was, um... he was crazy," I reply, "he was drunk on power, and... there's something... not quite right in his head. And the stress, plus the power, plus all the alcohol he drank... it acted like an switch almost."

"So, hypothetically, if he ever got that power again, and drank that much... you think he'd do it again?"

"I... don't know. I don't think so," I reply, "but I trust that he'll never get that drunk again." I put the bottle on a table nearby. "I hope you won't either."


	15. See the Changes

I watch from the front porch, sitting on a blanket, as Bass, Miles, Charlie, Jason, Connor, Scanlon, and Vincent talk to Heather. Angela pulls on my fingers that rest on my knee to get my attention.

"What is it, baby?," I ask, pulling my eyes away from the group. She holds up one of her blocks for the thousandth time. I smile and take it to look at it. Connor carved an 'A' on one side, and a small apple on the other. I hand it back and let her try to stack them some more, turning my eyes back to the group. Bass is looking at me, and as soon as our eyes meet, he looks away and says something. I see his eyes wander over a couple times. Finally, my curiosity takes over and I pick up the baby, and walk over to them.

"Hey," I say,coming to stand beside Bass. They all stop and look at me. "What's going on?"

"Heather knows where her dad might be," Miles says.

"Where?"

"Well, we're hoping not," Charlie adds.

"Where is it?," I ask.

"Patriot training camp," Jason replies, a dark cloud over his face.

"Oh," I say softly. "And there are... there are kids in there?"

"Yeah," Miles says, shortly, not meeting my eye.

"Ok," I say slowly, "So you go in at night, and sneak around?" No one says anything. "Right?"

"We're gonna try," Charlie says.

"Well, we don't know he's there for sure," I argue. "Heather, you said he was in the woods when you left, right?"

"Yeah, but he'd probably come looking for me," she replies, "I mean, it ain't for sure, but there's a good chance he's in there."

"Well, you're not just going to storm in there? I mean, you'll look other places first, right?"

"Of course," Bass says, "But chances are we're not gonna find him sitting in the woods."

"So what will you do?," I ask, looking around at them all. "You won't...?" Bass avoids my eyes. I scoff. "Unbelievable." I start to turn away, but Bass grabs my arm. I pull away quickly.

"Lindsay," he starts, "you gotta understand. They're not children anym-"

"What if it was Angela?," I ask," What if she was sixteen, seventeen, and in that camp?"

"My brother was in one of those camps," Heather argues, "and I promise, he wasn't the same when he came out."

"But they haven't gotten out yet!," I insist, "Look at Jason! His dad got him out before they could completely brainwash him and he's fine!"

"We don't know how long they've been in there," Bass says, "they could be too far gone."

"Or they could not! You don't know, Bass!"

"Lindsay," Miles starts, "we can't-"

"We'll do whatever we can," Bass interrupts, much to Miles' annoyance. "We'll do whatever we can to not kill them. We find her dad first."

"I want to liberate that camp," I insist.

"We will," Bass says, "as soon as we can get in. I look at him doubtfully. "We'll get to it, alright?" It's quiet for a bit, and then he looks away from me and nods to Miles. Then he answers for me, "Alright. So, Miles and I are gonna go that way."

"The rest of you," Miles says, "find other ways to go. We split up, find her dad. No luck by the end of the day, you stop where you are, and you make camp. Then you pick it back up in the morning. Got nothing at the end of three days, come back here. Got it? One of us finds him, we'll bring him back here. It's the not the best system, but with no phones or anything..."

"So we're going in groups?," Scanlon asks.

"Yep," Miles replies, "you're with Vincent. Charlie, you're with Jason, Connor, you go with Heather. Heather, go ahead and-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Connor interrupts, "somehow, I feel like I drew the short stick here."

"Connor," I say softly.

"What? You want me to be nice? Sorry, Lindsay, but I'm not too happy with the fact that everyone's got someone watching their back, and I've just got this bitch. I've got no cov-"

"Connor!," I repeat, "calm down."

"Connor, c'mon, just leave it," Bass says, "she needs protection, you need a partner, so calm down, ok? Heather, tell us what you know." I mumble something about going inside and start their.

"Yeesh," Nora says, appearing beside me, "that kid's got issues."

"How long you been standing there?"

"Just now," she replies, "but I heard the whole thing."

"Oh."

"So that's Monroe's kid..."

"Yeah, that's Connor. He's not always like this, it's just that he's had a tough time lately with the whole Jason-Charlie thing, you kn-"

"He reminds me of him," she interrupts, "Monroe." Her eyes, on Angela, flick to mine.

"So what's up?," I ask, shifting the baby's weight.

"I got a message," she says, ominously, as we walk in the house. I look around to make sure no one's around before I speak again.

"Yeah, what's that?"

"You're a good sister," she says. I stop and she stops too, looking at me. I've heard those words before, recently.

"Wha... who said that?"

"He said you probably wouldn't remember him," she says. "but he remembers you. You were the last person he met before he died."

"Who... do you know him? Like, did you? When you were alive?"

"Yeah, I knew him," she replies. "Sort of." Ugh, who is it? Someone that Nora knew, that I spoke to recently, and then they died. Someone who told me I was a good sister...

"Nora...?"

"He's waiting, in your room," she says, "if you wanna go see him."

"I... will you come with me?"

"That's not how it works," she says sadly.

"So I can only see one person at a time?"

"I know, it sucks," she says, "how can I ever have a decent card game?" She smiles. "Go ahead. I'll see you later." I nod a little, and walk into the hallway. It seems like it's stretching out before me, making my room impossible to get to. Finally, I do. I put my hand on the door knob and sigh. Am I really this insane? Is there really someone in my bedroom right now?

* * *

**Three months after the Blackout**

_Walking. Walking is all we've done for a month. So after we find that Jeremy Baker guy, I'm relieved ro rest for a few days. Well, it's only been one day, but it's something. Miles crouches down next to me, as I clean off Jeremy's wounds and replace the bandaging while he sleeps._

_"Hey," he says quietly, looking at the bloody bandages, "you ok?"_

_"I'm fine," I lie. _

_"Linds, c'mon," he says, "talk about it. I know you want to."_

_"You killed those guys, Miles," I whisper. "You just shot them."_

_"I had to," he says carefully, "They were going to kill Bass."_

_"I know," I say quickly, "I just... I didn't think it would come to this. I mean, this isn't..." I sigh, "we aren't in a war. We're just people walking home, and some guys are doing this stuff?" I gesture to Jeremy's bruised face. "It's not right."_

_"No, it's not," he agrees, "but Lindsay, it's what's happening. And I'm not saying you need to get used to it. But I am saying that I will more than likely have to kill more people before we get to Ben's. You understand that, right?" I nod, and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. _

_"Where's Bass?," I ask. _

_"Hunting," he says. I nod again. We're quiet for a bit, and then he says, "we gotta get going again, Linds. Soon."_

_"I know."_

_"Like tomorrow soon. Maybe even today."_

_"No," I shake my head, "No, we can't do that. Jeremy can't... he's got an injured leg, he can't... walk..."_

_"Lindsay," he starts, in that voice. I look up without moving my head. _

_"No! Miles? No- you- you can't be serious!"_

_"It's dangerous enough-"_

_"We can't leave him, he's injured!"_

_"I already saved his life, Lindsay, I can't do much more."_

_"We can't just leave him here to die! He's got no meds, no food... if the wound gets infected..."_

_"He's not family," Miles says. I shake my head, not wanting to hear this. "Linds, just listen. I'm your brother, ok? And Bass is family, too. Ok, these days... all you can worry about is your family. It's harsh, I know. I get that. But we have to take care of our own... not some guy that'll slow us down."_

_"He won't slow us down any more than I will," I snap. Then, I hear a clang and Bass shout for Miles. I look up, and look between Miles and Bass' voice's direction. _

_"Stay with him!," he shouts, and runs off._

_"Miles! Miles, wait!," I shout. I hear clanging and shots fire then more clanging. "Miles! Bass!" I look at Jeremy quickly, and try ti wake him up. I shake his arm. "Jeremy! Jeremy, please! Please, please, please wake up!" His eyes eventually open slowly. I hand him a knife._

_"What's going on?"_

_"Stay here!," I say quickly, and stand up._

_"Lindsay, what- where are you going?," he shouts after me. My feet pound the ground as I run forward, toward the sounds of battle. I see Miles and Bass fighting with knives, against some guy with a sword- an actual sword. _

_"M-" I'm cut off by someone grabbing me. I scream, as I'm dragged away, a sword at my throat. "Get off me! Get off-"_

_"Not just yet, sweetheart!," the guy shouts in my ear, in a southern accent. He throws me to the ground roughly, and I land on my stomach. _

_"Help!," I choke out. "Miles! Bass!" I try to crawl forward, but the guy stops me by kicking my wrist, hard. I cry out in desperation and pain. He grabs me and flips me over. _

_"Yeah, we're gonna have ourselves a good old time," he laughs, holding his sword so it's pointed at my throat, "Hey, Rob! Come see what I found!"_

_"Little busy here, Darren!," Rob shouts back._

_"Huh, guess I got you all to myself."_

_"Please," I beg, "Please, I'll do anything-"_

_"Yeah, you will," he chuckles. He flips me over so I'm on my stomach again and puts his boot down on my leg so I can't move. My heart is racing, pounding in my ears. My leg throbs in pain. Out of very back corner of my eye, I see him start to unbuckle his belt. No, no, no, no, no! I scream out a plea. Suddenly, he lands on the ground next to me, and I cry out. I look up to see Bass pulling a sword out of his back, his face the pure mask of anger. I stay on the ground, staring up at him. I want to hug him, I want him to hold me. But he looks so angry, I'm a little scared. His eyes shift to me and then soften. I exhale deeply but softly._

_"Are there any more, Miles?," he asks, breathing heavy. _

_"No, they were alone," Miles replies, looking at the sword he picked off the dead man next to my feet. Bass nods and drops the sword, and holds his hand out to me. "Where in the hell they got swords... you ok, Lindsay?"_

_"I'm ok," I reply, breathing heavy. "I'm-I'm ok." Miles nods and walks back to where Jeremy is. Bass moves his hand toward mine again, and I look at it, and then look at his face. He's controlling his anger. I put my hand into his, finally. It's Bass. I'm safe with him. He's not angry at me. It's ok. I'm ok. He pulls me up slowly._

_"Here," he says, as we sit down against a tree. "Let me get the leaves out of your hair." I nod and try to make myself breathe evenly, as he combs his fingers through my hair. When he's done, he gives me some of the jerky we have left and we eat in silence._

_"Bass," Miles calls, glancing at me. "We gotta talk."_

* * *

I turn the doorknob and open the door to see someone vaguely familiar in my armchair. I close the door.

"You don't remember me," he says with a sigh.

"I do," I argue, "I just..."

"Westchester, rebel camp," he says, "few miles outside of Philly. You and your brother came in with Nora, and your brother got drunk. We spoke for a bit."

"Paul!," I suddenly remember, "Paul Briggs!"

"Hi," he chuckles. "How've you been?"

"I've... uhh... I've been better," I reply, "why'd you... sorry, but why are you here?"

"Cause you need me," he replies.

"I do?," I ask. That was rude, but I barely knew him.

"Your guys want to raid that camp, with the kids inside?," he questions. I nod. "You remember why I was with the Patriots in the first place?" I sit down on the bed and look at him.

"Your son had been brainwashed by militia," I say softly.

"Exactly."

"So you're here to tell me... what...? That those kids are too far gone? That I should let them kill-"

"No, the opposite," he says, then adds with a chuckle, "wow, you're a lot... less shy than I remember."

"What do you mean?"

"When I met you, you were... quiet. I mean, you never looked me in the eye, I'm pretty sure."

"I've grown a lot," I say, with a small smile.

"Yeah," he says quietly, "well, anyway... I'm just saying. I wish somone had gotten my son out before he was too far gone."

"What can I do?," I whisper, "if my husband wants to do this, and he's there, and I'm not... I... he'll do it! I can't..."

"Ok, now, hey," Paul says, "the Lindsay I knew may have been quiet. But she never would've let General Monroe control her again." He stands up, and puts his hand on the doorknob. "My son is good, by the way. But he died way too young." Then he leaves. I stand up, and, with Angela still in my arms, march out to meet the group that's ready to head out. They all start walking away, some towards the house, some away from it. I meet Scanlon halfway to Bass.

"Hey, will you take her real quick?," I ask quietly, "I need to talk to Bass."

"Yeah, sure," he replies, greeting her and smiling. Then he looks back at me. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah," I assure him, with a small smile, "yeah, everything's fine."

"Ok...," he says, uncertainly. He glances back at Bass and then at me, and then nods slowly, "ok, we'll be in the kitchen when you're done." I thank him quietly and then walk towards my husband.

"Bass!," I call. He turns.

"Hey, I was just about to come and find y-"

"You're not doing it," I interrupt, "if you find out that her dad is in there, you can sneak in there and get him. Don't kill those kids."

"Lindsay-"

"No! Don't use that voice! I said no, ok?"

"Ok," he says, finally.

"Listen," I say softly, taking his hands and stepping a little closer. "I... you need to come home. If you have to go into that camp, come home and tell me first."

"Why?"

"Because I want to come," I say, looking up at him.

"What? No. Lindsay- no! You're already coming to Austen, so-"

"I know," I interrupt, "but I want to come. And..." I look away. "I want to get those kids out."

"I know, and I said we would. We already discussed th-"

"No, not after we get Heather's dad," I say, "while we get Heather's dad. And even if he's not in there."

"Lindsay, c'mon," he says quietly, putting his hands on my waist, and gently pulling me closer, "I know you want to help those kids. But think, ok? Even if we do get them out, where are they all gonna stay? Here?"

"Yes," I reply, "the hospital. We have plenty of room!"

"Ok, and when we go to Austen?," he asks and I pause. "You're so desperate to go, aren't you? So, what, you're gonna make the kids fight?"

"No, of course not! I-"

"Oh, so you're gonna take them all in like we're some orphanage and then just leave them for a weeks to go to Austen?"

"Bass, would you j-"

"Yeah, great plan," he mutters. I shove his hands off of me.

"Don't talk to me like that," I say firmly. He looks angry, but quickly calms himself. I soften my voice and continue, "Would you please just listen to me?"

"What?," he asks finally, emotionless.

"I want to give them a choice," I reply, "they can go home, and find their families. They'll be well aware of the dangers, I'm sure. But they can go and get their loved ones and run away. Or... they can fight. If they want to. They've got training, and some of them will surely want to fight against the people that kidnapped and tried to brainwash them. And we could use the help, in Austen. It's so dangerous, you don't want me coming, but... with all that extra cover...?" I put his hands on my hips again and draw closer to him. I kiss him before answering, near his ear, "I'd feel much more safe." His eyes search my face, while he thinks. His lips part like he's going to say something. He looks at me for a moment, then nods.

"I'll get Miles," he murmurs, "we'll figure this out."

* * *

_Bass and Miles keep glancing at me as they talk, their voices too low for me to understand. I look away, not wanting them to know I know they're looking... although I'm not sure why._

_"Hey," Jeremy says, and I jump. "Woah, sorry."_

_"What? Oh, no, it's ok. Hi. What's up?"_

_"What happened back there?," he asks, "You seem shook up."_

_"N-nothing happened," I reply, shakily, smiling to try and prove it. He sits up and scoots closer._

_"Lindsay, if you want to talk," he starts, "I know we don't know each other that well, but-"_

_"How's your leg?," I ask, trying to get the focus off of me._

_"Better," he replies, "I may be able to travel by tomorrow."_

_"Oh, we don't have to," I say, "Miles wants to, but he can-" I stop short as ond of the swords, clean now, lands on the ground next to me. I look up. _

_"Stand up, Linds," Miles says, looking away from me, "we gotta teach you how to fight." I use the tree to push myself up. I look between him and Bass._

_"Seriously?," I ask slowly. _

_"Yeah," Miles replies with a short nod, "something like that happens again... Well, you need to be able to make sure something like that doesn't happen again." I lean down and pick up the sword. My God, I don't even know how to hold this thing properly. I look down at Jeremy. _

_"Jeremy too," I reply, "he should be able to defend himself too." Miles thinks it over._

_"Yeah, alright," he replies, "stand up, man. If you can."_

_"Yeah, I got it," he replies, and stands up with Bass' help. "Let's do this."_

_..._

_Bass puts a gun into my hands, and then he and Miles walk off to go hunt. Obviously Bass' last hunting trip was... unsuccessful. I offer to cook something for them first, but they refuse, saying that if they come back empty handed, I'll have only wasted the food. I'm feeling better though, and I want to have something to do. I look at Jeremy._

_"Are you hungry?," I ask._

_"Don't worry about me," he shrugs, "I can take care of myself."_

_"So that's a yes?"_

_"No, it's not," he chuckles, "Lindsay, I'm fine, really. I don't need you to cook for me."_

_"No, it's fine," I insist, "I like cooking and you need to eat as much as possible while you're healing. Actually, I don't know if that's true. But it can't hurt. It'll only take a second, cause I can't-"_

_"Lindsay," he stops me, with another chuckle, "it's fine. Really. Just relax, ok?" I nod and look down at the gun in my hands. "Have you ever used one? A gun?" I shake my head. _

_"No," I say quietly. "I had a rifle, but... I never used it. Have you?"_

_"Yes," he admits, "I was a police officer, before all this."_

_"The night the power shut down must've been horrible for you."_

_"Well, it would've been," he sighs, "if I still had been a cop."_

_"What happened?," I ask, then add quickly, "Sorry, that was rude. I-"_

_"No, don't apologize," he says, "you can always pay me back with revealing information on yourself." I smile, and then he answers the question, "the, uh, Richmond PD doesn't exactly condone drinking on the job. Even when you're doing evidence all week and you're behind a desk."_

_"Is that where you're from?," I ask, "Richmond?"_

_"Nah, I moved there when I was twenty," he replies, "I'm from Boston. Let me ask you something now."_

_"Ok."_

_"Are you a history junkie?"_

_"Yes," I say in surprise, "Yeah, I had just gotten my bachelor's in history... how'd you know?"_

_"I heard you and Blue Eyes talking about the Civil War last night," he chuckles, "that's some, uh, nice pillow talk by the way."_

_"Oh," I say and chuckle, "yeah, I... I like history."_

_"Clearly," he says, and smiles. "He's lucky, you know?"_

_"Bass?"_

_"Yeah, Bass."_

_"Why's that?"_

_"Cause he's got you," he replies, "Lindsay, seriously, you may be the most wonderf-"_

_"Well, it wasn't a total loss," Bass announces. I twist around to see him holding up two rabbits. He throws them on the ground next to me and I recoil. I've never eaten a rabbit. I've never eaten a deer, for that matter. Much less cooked one. I look up at him._

_"Rabbit? You want to eat bunnies?"_

_"We don't really have a choice, Linds," Miles says, splashing water on his face. "In a few weeks, that jerky is gonna run out. And when winter comes... rabbit will pretty much be all there is." I look at it doubtfully. _

_"Hey," Bass says, kneeling down beside me, "it's ok, alright? I'll cook it. And you just close your eyes, take a bite... it'll taste just like chicken, ok?" I purse my lips and look at the water for a bit. _

_"Not if you cook it, it won't" I tease, with a small smile. "I'll do it."_

_"Lindsay-"_

_"No," I insist, "no, it's ok. I can do it. Just... skin it for me, ok?" He nods, and gives me a soft kiss before picking up the rabbits and moving behind a tree. _

_"Miles, give me a hand?," he calls. _

_"Uh, no," he argues, "I'm tired as hell, I'm taking a nap." Bass mutters under his breath and I start to feel bad. What hasn't he done for me? Today alone? I start to stand up._

_"I'll help, man," Jeremy volunteers, and stands up. He limps over to him, and just before he passes the tree, he smiles at me, and gives me a small nod. He then disappears behind the tree, and he and Bass try to figure out what to do._

* * *

"So, how would this work, exactly?," Miles asks, his arms crossed.

"I think we should figure out if Heather's dad is actually in there, first," I reply. "And if he's not, we'll send one group to find him, and another to liberate the camp. It'll only take maybe four people to find him."

"Ok...," Bass says, though I know he hates the plan. "How? How are we gonna find out if he's there?" I don't have an exact plan for that so I stay quiet, trying to find one.

"We go in," Charlie says, "Me, Jason, Connor, and Heather. We're all around the same age, we could do it."

"No," Rachel argues immediately, "No way. Too dangerous."

"It's a big possibility they know what you and Jason look like, maybe even Connor," Miles adds, "and I'm positive they know what Heather looks like."

"The night shift does," Heather speaks up. We all look at her. "I went in at night, so the night guards know what I look like. They day guards probably don't."

"Yeah, but we can't let you go in alone," Charlie says, "look what happened last time. I say we risk it. Maybe they know what Jason and I look like. Maybe. But they've been trying to catch us for how long? Maybe they did. Maybe we're brainwashed now. Jason's already been through it. So what? They called his number again, and now he's back in training. It makes sense."

"...I don't know," Rachel says uncertainly.

"Well, it's not up to you," Charlie says, "Jason? What do you think?"

"I...," he sighs, "I think we need to get those kids out a-s-a-p. So, I'm in."

"Good," Charlie looks to her left, "Connor?"

"Yeah, sure," he mutters.

"I'm definitely in," Heather says, when Charlie looks at her.

"Great," she says, "we leave in an hour."

"Woah, woah, wait," we all talk over each other, but the four kids are already walking away.

"So, then what?," Miles asks, "they find him, bring him here and we go into the camp? And if they don't-"

"How about this," I reply, "if they don't find him there, then they can be the group that searches for him, and the rest of us will go liberate the camp."

"Including you?," Bass asks.

"Yes, including me," I nod.

"I'll take care of the baby," Gene offers. I thank him, but Bass cuts me off.

"No, no, no, wait," he snaps, "this is ridicu-"

"It's a good plan, Bass," Miles says.

"So I just have no say?," he asks. I sigh. I really want to get those kids out.

"Let me do this," I say, "and I'll stay here after. I won't go to Austen." That shocks him. He takes a moment to think about it. I think he'll either argue that I shouldn't come on either mission or he'll take the deal. But what he does do surprises me.

"No," he says.

"Bass," I complain. "Come on-"

"You made a good point," he cuts me off, "you should go to Austen. But you should also come to the camp, if you want." I stare at him, stunned.

"Thank you," I say finally. He nods.

"Just... don't do anything stupid," he mutters.

"I won't."

"Alright then," he nods.

"I'm gonna go help the kids get ready," Miles says.

"Yeah, I'll come with you," Rachel adds and they walk off. I look at Bass.

"Thank you," I repeat.

"Well, you were right," he says, "I was being ridiculous." I smile and kiss him.

"I love you."

"I love you too," he murmurs. "I'm gonna go get Angela." I look at the sun.

"It's about time for her nap," I reply, "but I should feed her first. I'll get a bottle ready and then I'll put her down."

"Ok," he says, taking my hands and pulling me closer to him, "Then I'll meet you in the bedroom?" I laugh.

"Mm, please do," I murmur, kissing his neck. He chuckles and pulls away to go get the baby. I look after him with a smile.

"Looks like he has changed," Nora says. I look over to see her standing next to me. "You guys are really in love, huh?" I smile and watch him through the window, picking up our baby and laughing as she moves her tiny hands through his hair. I say to Nora, without moving my eyes.

"Did you ever doubt it?"


	16. The Deep Breath Before the Plunge

**Six months after the Blackout**

_"You did __**not!,"**__ I accuse, giggling. _

_"I did!," Jeremy insists._

_"You actually __**said**__ that?"_

_"Well, I was gonna get fired anyway, Linds. Then I could finally speak my mind." I laugh, even as I shiver. It's nearing the end of October. Actually, today might be... it might be Halloween. I have no idea. But it's cold. I'm wearing one of Bass' jackets, over my own, but still. _

_Miles is worrying about winter, which will be here faster than I'd like. He says it's not a good idea for us to be walking when it's that cold. But we won't make it to Chicago by then, no way. And Miles keeps grumbling about the world needing order. He's saved some more people like Jeremy. He's turning into a vigilante or something. _

_As we walk, we pass a green road side that points to an exit for Boston. It's not far. I look over at Jeremy, tucking hair behind my ear. _

_"So, how long do you plan on sticking with us?," I ask. _

_"Uh," he pushes his lips out as if he's in deep thought, and tilts his head to one side, then the other., "that's actually a really good question. I mean, I should go back to Boston. But my folks and I aren't on very good terms."_

_"But these days..."_

_"Exactly. Tell you what," he says, "I'll go with you guys to Chicago, then head off for Boston."_

_"By yourself?," I ask, "but Jeremy-"_

_"I'll be able to defend myself now thanks to your boys," he says._

_"Oh, so we're her boys now?," Bass asks._

_"Yeah, I always kinda thought __**I**__ was in charge," Miles adds. I giggle slightly then look at Jeremy._

_"But seriously, Jeremy-" I'm cut off by the sounds of a struggle not too far off. We all freeze in our tracks. _

_"Not again," I whisper. Bass takes my hand, intertwines it with his, and kisses it before letting go. _

_"Stay here," he murmurs._

_"But Bass-"_

_"If we need your help, we'll call you," he says. "Let me and Miles just go see what's up, ok?" I nod, and watch them pull out their guns and creep forward, into the trees. _

_"Ok," I let out a shaky, frightened breath. _

_ "It's ok," Jeremy murmurs, putting his hand on my shoulder, "it'll be ok." I start to nod, but then I hear gunshots._

* * *

I sit on the counter in one of the hospital's many reception areas, Angela snoozing in a cribe beside me. That's another good thing about this place, there are dozens of cribs and baby supplies on floor five. I uncross my legs, and recross so they've switched position.

Gene is in the corner, rummaging through more medicine cabinets, trying to figure out what's still usable. He's made considerable progress. He's up to the third floor now. Rachel is sorting out the ones that are usable, and stacking them in a new cabinet.

Bass and Miles are talking with Scanlon and some guys in the break room of this floor. Aaron and Priscilla have passed by a few times, but they live on the second floor mostly. I've kept my distance from her. Angela stirs, and I tuck some hair behind my ear and lean towards her. But she just moves her arms a little and then falls back asleep. I smile, but it falls as Alex runs in through the door leading to the steps.

"They're back," he says, out of breath. Gene stands up quickly, and Rachel and I exchange a worried look. Then we swing into action. I pick up Angela, gently so as not to wake her, and hurry behind him.

"Any medical emergencies?," Gene asks, on my tail.

"Her old man's got a few scratches," Derek replies, "a pretty nasty one on his arm. Jason a biggish bruise on his leg, everyone's got some cuts, but other than that they're fine, far as we can tell."

"Wait, so they found Heather's dad?," I ask. He nods. We reach the first floor, and Derek opens the door. Rachel quickly runs to get a sewing kit and stitch up her daughter. I look at Gene.

"Would you like to look at her dad?," I ask, "he's your friend." Gene looks between the cut on the bald man's arm, and Jason's heavily bruised lower leg.

"Jason looks pretty bad," he replies, "I'll go check him out, you stitch him up." I nod, and carry Angela over to Bass.

"Hey, I'm going to help Gene with the first-aid," I murmur, kissing his cheek, "will you take her? She's sleeping now, and there's a crib by the entrance, I think."

"Yeah, sure," he says, carefully slipping her out of my arms, "everyone ok?"

"Yeah," I reply, "just some sutures." He nods, and kisses me. I smile. "I'll come find you soon." I pull over one of the carts that Rachel put together with things we typically use when someone comes back with scrapes. I pull it over to the bed that the stranger is laying in, and sit in the rolling chair next to him.

"Who are you?," he asks suspiciously.

"My name's Lindsay," I reply, putting on gloves, "I'm a friend of Gene's."

"Lindsay Matheson?," he asks. I'm about to correct him, when he continues, "Truman's fiancee?" I start to say something, but I falter. Then I gain my composure.

"No," I reply, "Um, that's-that's a lie. I wasn't ever enganged to Truman."

"That actually makes a lot of sense. Seeing your last name's Matheson and all."

"It's actually not," I murmur, "anymore. It's Monroe." He looks over at Bass.

"Like General _Sebastian_ Monroe?"

"He's my husband," I reply, "only, he's not a general anymore."

"Right, right, sorry. Well, look, I appreciate you guys helping me. But I'd like to find Dr. Porter and then get out of here. See, my daughter-"

"Heather? Heather's fine," I assure him, "she's getting some cuts taken care of, then she'll be here."

"Oh, ok," he says, leaning back, relaxing as he sees Gene.

"So, listen, you've got a pretty nasty cut under those bandages on your arm," I tell him, "I'm going to stitch it up, if that's ok?"

"Yeah," he grunts, "that's fine." I smile kindly and nod, sterilizing the needle filled with mild lidocaine. I unwrap the bandages.

"Alright, you'll feel a pinch, and then the area will be numb, ok?" He nods. I nod back and gently squeeze the liquid into his arm. I wait ten seconds. "Feel anything there?"

"No."

"Ok," I murmur, and pour alcohol on a cotton ball. I start cleaning the wound. He winces. "It helps if you don't watch," I advise. He nods and looks away.

"You people got medical training?," he asks.

"A few of us," I reply. He looks at me for a second.

"So... your baby," he says slowly, "I think I saw her earlier. She's not Truman's?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive"

"But he did-"

"Look," I stop sewing for a second, "what's your name? I've been calling you Heather's dad for a while." Gene told me before, but I can't remember.

"Joe," he says, "Joe Matthews."

"Well, Joe," I sigh, resuming my work, "I don't... like talking about what that man did or did not or _tried_ to do to me. I understand you're confused, but I can't sit here and tell you about him. I'm sure your daughter has figured out by now, and feel free to ask her." I tie the knot on the stitches, and look at him. "Just don't ask me."

"I apologize, ma'am," he says. I just nod, and apply some sort of cream to some bruises. I look up as a shadow goes over us.

"Joe Matthews," Gene says, smiling, "you're a sore sight for my eyes."

_"Not_ how that one goes, I think, Gene," he grins.

"Well, I'd say let's put money on it," he laughs, "but you owe me enough already." Joe laughs back. "Tell you what though, you tell me what I need to know about that training camp, and we'll call it even."

"You got it, Doc," Joe agrees.

"Lindsay," Gene adresses me, "would you go find Heather, please? Let her know her father's awake?" I nod, and stand up. I take the gloves off and throw them in the trash, and head upstairs, looking for Heather.

I open the door to the second floor, and call out for her. I get no reply. I sigh and open some doors. On maybe the fourth door that I open (the on call room), I nearly slam it shut at what I see.

"Oh, my God!," I shout in surprise. Connor's got Heather pushed up against the wall, and until two seconds ago, they were making out passionately. His shirt's off, and she was in the process of unbuttoning her flannel. "Oh, my _God. Ohhhh_ my God."

"Lindsay, just-just calm down, ok?," Connor says. "It's ok. We just-"

"Oh my God," I say again. I stare at them in shock for about five seconds, and then I gasp, "excuse me!" I shut the door and close my eyes, leaning on the counter nearby for support. What the hell was that?! Were they about to sleep together?! Connor... and Heather...! He essentially called her a useless bitch just a _day_ ago! Oh my God, was that an act!? Have they been sleeping together since she got here?! Does Charlie know? Does Jason know? Does _everybody_ know but _me?!_

"Lindsay-"

"Oh, my God," I say again, turning around to see Connor, fully clothed, and Heather behind him, buttoning the second to top button on her shirt.

"Ok, please stop saying that," he says, calmly.

"You... Connor, you and H... _what?!_ How long has this...?"

"Just since yesterday," he assures me.

"How is that possible?!," I ask. Heather steps forward.

"Ok, it's not as bad as it seems," she says, carefully, "yesterday, after we found my dad, we made camp halfway back. Connor and I did watch together, and well... I kissed him."

_"You_ kissed _him?,"_ I repeat.

"I kissed him," she says, "and he sorta kissed back. Nothin' happened after that. It ain't like we're dating or anything," she glances at Connor and smiles a little, "yet." He blushes slightly.

"So you guys haven't...?," ugh, words. I can't talk. Why is this so shocking? What am I trying to say?

"Slept together?," Connor asks. "No. We haven't." Now he glances at her, and smiles slyly. _"Yet." _She giggles.

"Ah!," I shriek, "what... is happening?!"

"Lindsay," Connor says, with a slight laugh, "why are you getting so freaked out over this?"

"I just... you were so rude to her... and I..."

"Yeah, and that was terrible of me. I didn't even know her. I mean, c'mon. We're young, but we're both adults. We can make our own decisions." I stare at him for a bit, then shake my head to clear it.

"Heather, your, uh, dad's awake," I say, "Gene's with him now."

"Oh, thank God," she murmurs, kissing Connor on the cheek, "see you later." She runs off. As soon as the door closes behind her, Connor starts laughing.

"What?"

"Your face," he laughs, "your reaction."

"Yeah, haha on me," I mutter, "but Connor, seriously. What are you doing?"

"What? What is so wrong with me liking a girl who actually likes me back?"

"Well, you...," huh, he's right. "Well, I guess you're right. I just... I don't think you should rush things."

"Meaning?," he asks with a smirk.

"You know what I mean," I snap, "and for God's sake, Connor, when you _do_ get to that part, use protection."

"Ew, this conversation is weird," he says, crinkling his nose, pushing off the counter and walking away.

"Ok, but seriously, promise me you will."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he laughs, "so are you gonna go around talking about this or...?"

"Well," I bite my lip and shrug, "I mean, I won't just start talking about it, but I won't lie about it either. And Connor? If you don't want a serious relationship, don't lead her on like you do, alright?"

"Ok," he replies, then smiles, "I just want to see where this goes." He says. As he walks away, I finally smile. Because I think he actually has a chance for a real, loving relationship here.

I walk back to the ER and find Bass. He's talking to Miles, Angela still asleep in the crib next to him. Gene walks over and they start talking. I step forward.

"Hey," I murmur.

"Hey, Linds," Bass says, putting an arm around my waist.

"What's going on?"

"Joe says he doesn't know anything," Gene says, "said they're getting ready for something big, but... he doesn't know what."

"Damn," Miles says, putting his hands on his hips.

You know who probably knows where they're going?," I ask. "The people being trained to go. The kids. Gene, does he know how to get in?"

"He knows how to get caught," Gene sighs, "but get in without a sound? No. Says he doesn't think it can be done."

"Well, we're not trying to do that," I reply. "We're going to get those kids out, they're gonna notice."

"Linds, I think we need to reevaluate this," Bass says.

"You mean give up?," I ask, thinking of Paul's son, and Nora's unborn son she fought so hard for. "Let the kids get brainwashed and die like this is a militia conscript ship?" The three men freeze. Miles just looks down guiltily. Gene just looks at Bass expectantly. Bass just stares at me in shock and guilt. I breathe evenly to make myself calm down. _Mood swings_, a voice says in my head, _because you have a growing tumor in your brain. _

"Lindsay, this isn't like that," he says finally.

"It's exactly like...," I start vehemently. Then I say calmly, "It's just like that. And we have to get the kids out before things go too far. Alright?" Bass looks at Miles. They look at each other for a long moment, and then Miles shrugs and looks at me.

"We'll leave tomorrow night."

"Tonight," I insist.

_"Tomorrow,"_ Bass says firmly, "Jason, Charlie, and Connor need to rest. And so do you." I look out the window. It's already a deep blue. I look out there for a while, and then see Nora. She's sitting on the railing over the steps. She smiles. Finally, I nod, and look back at Bass.

"Fine," I say. "We'll go tomorrow afternoon."

"Alright," Bass says. "I'm gonna go talk to everyone, we'll come up with a plan."

"We'll have to do a weapon stock too," Miles says.

"You should take some bandages with you," Gene says, "just in case." He and Miles walk off.

"What are you gonna do?," Bass asks me. I stare at him, my anger still a little there.

"I'm going home," I reply smoothly, "I need to talk to Nora before we leave."

"Nora?," he questions.

"What?"

"You called her Nora. I mean, I know that's her name, but..."

"Oh, I guess I've just got Nora on my mind."

"Lindsay," he takes my hand as I start to turn away. "Do you want to talk?"

"Talk about what?"

"I don't know," he says, "anything?" I feel my anger go down and I smile.

"No, it's ok," I murmur. Angela starts to stir in her crib. "I'll probably take a cart back. Can you get a ride with someone?"

"Yeah, sure. But, Linds, wait. You're not going by yourself, are you?"

"I'll be fine," I reply, with a smile, thinking that technically, I'll have Nora.

"I don't know," he worries, "it's dark, you've got the baby, you won't be able to fight as well with her. Maybe Charlie should go back with you, she needs to sleep anyway."

"Bass, it's fine-"

"No, Lindsay, seriously. Think about the baby." I sigh.

"Alright," I murmer.

"Thank you. Hey, Charlie!," he calls. She finishes saying something to her mom, and then jogs over here.

"What's up?"

"Lindsay's taking the baby back to the house, and I don't want her going alone. We're raiding-"

"Liberating," I correct.

"Yeah, liberating," he says, "the camp tomorrow. You mind going back with her?"

"Nah, that's cool, Monroe," she shrugs. "I was gonna head back soon anyway. Hey, Jason!" Jason looks over here. "You wanna head back to the house?," she grins. "Turn in early?"

"Yeah, sure," he replies once he gets over here. "Let's go." They walk towards the door. Bass kisses my cheek.

"I'll be there later," he murmurs, kissing my lips. "Don't wait up if you get too tired." I nod and kiss him back.

"Good night. Love you."

"I love you," he smiles. He kisses his hand and touches Angela gently on the head. "Love you too, sweet girl." I smile at him as his hand slips from my arm, and he walks away. I walk into the blue night, Nora right behind me.

* * *

_"All clear, Linds," Bass shouts. I look at Jeremy. He smiles reassuringly and we walk toward them. He pulls aside from thorny branches for me and I thank him. _

_When I get into the clearing, I run to Bass, making sure he and Miles are alright. He smiles and kisses me, waving it off._

_"We're fine, baby," he says, with a small chuckle, "we're fine, it's alright."_

_"What in the hell happened?," Jeremy questions. _

_"Uh, we caught some guys attacking this family," Miles replies. I look to my right to see a family of three packing up their stuff quickly. I catch the woman's eye, and notice her lack of a proper jacket. _

_"Are you alright?," I ask, breaking away from Bass to kneel down and help her pick up her scattered things. _

_"Yes, I'm fine," she says, "I can't thank your friends enough for helping my family."_

_"It's not a problem," Miles says, kneeling next to me. "Mrs...?"_

_"Oh, Neville," she replies, holding out her hand. Miles and I both shake it. Then she stands and we follow suit. "Julia Neville. This is my husband Tom."_

_"A pleasure," the man says, shaking our hands. I smile politely, but there's something unsettling about his eyes. He's being nice, because they just saved his life. But I can tell he doesn't trust us. Which makes sense, these days. But it's like he's overanalyzing our entire beings. _

_"And our son," Julia continues, as a child, maybe seven or eight, comes to stand in front of his mother. She puts her hands on his shoulders. "Jason." He smiles shyly at me, a Transformer toy clutched in his hand. _

_"Jason, say hello," his father, Tom, commands, almost harshly. _

_"Hi," he says softly, before looking up at his father and saying, louder and confident, "I'm Jason Neville."_

_"It's nice to meet you," I say, smiling to reassure him. I shake his small hand. "I'm Lindsay." I look up to speak to his parents, and introduce my group, pointing them out. "This is Miles, Sebastian, and Jeremy." _

_"Hi," Bass says, with a small smile, shaking their hands. Jeremy does the same, and then Miles clears his throat. _

_"We, uh, we better get going," he says. "Got a __lot of road to cover."_

_"But it's almost dark," Julia protests. _

_"Oh, well, we'll make camp shortly," Bass replies. _

_"Please, let us repay you for helping us," she insists. _

_"We don't want to make you waste your supplies," I say, "things are so hard to come by these days."_

_"We live in a camp not five minutes from here," Julia says, "they'd be happy to help you for a night." I look at Miles, contemplating it. _

_"Well...," Miles says, also thinking it over._

_"Please," Tom says, "we insist." Miles looks at me, then Bass, who shrugs. _

_"Sure," Miles replies, "Yeah, I guess we can stay for a night."_

* * *

"You got a gun?," Bass asks, picking one out for himself.

"In my jeans, Bass," I say softly, rocking Angela back and forth.

"Knife?"

"In my boot," I reply. He starts to say something esle so I add, "sword in my belt, ammo in my jacket pocket." He tries to find more to argue about but he can't. I keep my eyes on my sleeping child. "We should go. Before she wakes up."

"Lindsay," he says, pleadingly. I look up. "What if you're not ready?"

"I'm ready, Bass," I say, "I can do this, alright? Let's just- let's just go." I put Angela in her cradle and turn to Gene. "Thank you."

"Of course," he nods, "just get back here in one piece." I smile slightly.

"If-if she gets fussy, you could try putting the crib in my room," I say, looking at her, "if she can smell our scents..."

"We'll be fine, Lindsay," he says softly. I nod and place a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I love you, Angie," I murmur. Bass takes my hand, and squeezes it gently. Then, I hug Gene and walk outside with Bass. But once we're on the porch, he reaches for my other hand so that I turn to face him.

"Are you sure you're ready?," he asks, kissing my jawline. I nod, my lips just brushing his cheekbone.

"As I'll ever be," I whisper. He sighs deeply, and lifts my left hand into the air. "What are you...?"

"Shh," he quiets me, "let me do something." He slips my wedding ring off my finger, and pulls out a chain on his neck I hadn't noticed before. He loops it on there and puts it over his head. Then he slips his ring off, and lifts my clock necklace over my head. I look at it.

In addition to breaking the glass, he also broke the chain when he ripped it off my neck. For a while, I had it tied together, but Miles eventually found me a new chain somewhere in the Grand Hotel. Bass undoes the clasp and slides his ring onto the chain until it clinks with the clock. Then he asks me to turn around and puts it on me.

"I love you," he says, after I've turned to face him.

"I love you too."

"We're gonna get through this, you and me."

"I know," I murmur, putting my hand on his face. He pulls me closer and I kiss him, using his arm strength to pull myself up. We're interrupted by a sword clanging on the pillar near us. I look up to see Miles sheathing the sword, his back to us as he walks away.

"Let's go," he calls, "we're not gonna take down the Patriots by kissing." I look at Bass for a second more and then we walk over to the wagon. He climbs up and extends his hand. I take it and pull myself up. I sit next to him, our hands intertwined still, across from Miles. There are two carts, and more on foot. Miles looks at me.

"You ready, Linds?," he asks.

"Let's go, Miles," I say, looking at him. He nods.

"Alright, Charlie," he calls, "let's move out." Charlie flips the reins, and we're off. Bass kisses me again, and whispers in my ear.

"Don't let go of my hand," he says, "until you absolutely _have_ to."

* * *

_I hold onto Bass arm as we walk into the cluster of tents. It looks like a camping area. There are tents not very spaced out, and then there's fire pits and tubs of camping supplies and clothes lines and things. _

_Julia and Tom, with Jason next to him, show us to am empty space where we can pitch our tents. We thank them, and they tell us dinner will be ready soon. _

_"Hi, Julia," a girl around my age with black, curly hair says, approaching us, "who's your friends?"_

_"Oh, these are some people we met on the road," she replies. I could tell she was going to tell the whole story, but Tom had shook his head. "Guys, this is Shelly."_

_"Nice to meet you," she says sweetly, shaking our hands. We tell her our names._

_"Sebastian," Bass says, "uh, Bass is-is what most people call me."_

_"Hi, Bass," she says, with a smile. She looks at him for a split second more and then looks down, smiling. After a few words with Julia, she walks away, looking back to wave slightly at Bass._

_"I think she's into you, man," Miles chuckles, before starting to pitch his tent. Uh, wait. Did she not see me wrapped around Bass' arm? It's pretty obvious we're together, I mean... hold on. Am I jealous? Am I the jealous type? No, I'm not. I'm not. But as Shelly comes over to offer us (well, Bass specifically) some water, I realize I am. Jeremy can tell I'm uncomfortable and smiles, striking up a conversation with her. I turn to Bass._

_"Hey, so, Julia offered us a bottle of wine," I murmur, "I was going to say no, but I thought maybe we could get that, maybe some candles, have a night to ourselves?" He smiles, and kisses me. _

_"What did I do to deserve you?," he asks, when he's done. _

_"You didn't do anything," I reply, "you didn't have to."_

_"Yes, I did," he insists._

_"Mm," I chuckle, my hands moving from his face to his chest, "Why don't you go get the wine? And I'll be waiting... in the tent...and my clothes won't be..." I give him a mischievous smile. _

_"You are the perfect woman," he says, before kissing my neck and walking off. As I watch Shelly walk away, though, I feel a little bad. That was really rude of me. She didn't even really do anything. But, I meant what I said. A night with just Bass would be nice. I open the flap to the tent and start unbuttoning my shirt._

* * *

**Please review!_ :3_**


	17. Into the Storm

**Two years after the Blackout**

_I walk through the camp, the paper with my brother's handwriting scrawled across it clutched in my hand. I pass Jeremy, who's hanging clothes on a line. He nods to me. I smile slightly, then I freak out and jog over to him._

_"Hey," he chuckles, as I stumble over. "What's up?"_

_"I can't do it, Jeremy," I reply._

_"What? No, c'mon, we talked about this. You gotta tell him."_

_"I just... he'll be angry, and I haven't told Bass yet, and it's just... no one wants to deal with this!"_

_"But you have to," he says, "go on, he's in that green tent over there." I sigh._

_"Ugh, fine, ok," I grumble, "if you see Bass, tell him I need to talk to him, alright?"_

_"Yeah, sure," he says, squeezing a shirt out over the water. _

_"You're gonna wrinkle all your clothes if you keep doing that," I call as I walk away._

_"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, laughing. I open the tent flap and see Miles sitting at a table. He's drinking with a few other men, Tom Neville included. He mutters something and Miles looks... excited almost. He thanks him and then sees me. _

_"Hey, Linds," he calls. Ugh, why does he actually have to be happy today? That makes this so much harder. "You want a drink?"_

_"No, that's-that's ok," I reply, "Miles, can I talk to you?" He looks at me for a moment._

_"Yeah, sure," he nods, "guys, could we have a moment?" The men all nod and then grab their drinks and walk out. I sit down across from Miles. "So what's up?"_

_"Miles, I... have to tell you something," I say, looking at the paper._

_"Ok," he says. I hesitate so he adds, "Linds, what's that, what do you have?" I sigh, and put the paper on the table, smoothing it out. _

_"It's a letter," I say slowly, not meeting his eye, "... from Ben." I finally look at his face, to see his eyes widen._

_"Wha- Ben?," he asks. I nod. "How-how'd he find us?"_

_"He didn't," I reply, "I found him."_

_"What?," he asks, in shock. I sigh again._

_"A couple weeks ago, Betsy Parker told me her husband was going up to Chicago to try and find work. She said whether he found it or not, he'd come back down here. Either to get them or stay... anyway, I wrote a letter and asked him to try and find Ben. He said he would. And... he got back a week ago." _

_"Give me the letter," he says. I slide it over to him carefully. He picks it up quickly and reads over it. I watch his eyes move over it. Then he stops and looks at me. "He's not even in Chicago anymore." _

_"Keep reading," I murmur. He does so. Ben told me that if I can be in Chicago on September fifth to the seventh, he'll meet me there. When he's completely finished, he throws it down and rubs his nose. _

_"Why didn't you tell me?," he asks finally._

_"Because you'd try and convince me that it was pointless," I say, "that he wouldn't get it or I wouldn't be able to find him or-"_

_"Lindsay, c'mon, you know I would've been all for this."_

_"No, you wouldn't!," I insist, "I know you wouldn't!"_

_"You know? And how do y-"_

_"Because for the last year, you've made excuses why we shouldn't get back on the road!," I cry, "We were supposed to be in this camp for a night, Miles. A night! We've been here for over a year and a half!"_

_"Lindsay-"_

_"I mean, I understood, at first." I say bitterly, "First, it was because winter was coming soon. Then it was because you wanted to stay and gather supplies. But six months ago? Last week? There's no reason we should still be here. You said it, you agreed with me. After the lights went out, we had to get to Ben before he was gone. And I needed to know he was alive. And look, Miles!," I point to the letter, "He is! So why in the world are we still sitting here?"_

_"I've got things to do here, Linds," he says. I laugh bitterly._

_"Things? What things?," I demand. He runs a hand through his hair. _

_"Ok, look, you've heard me talk about starting some sort of order," he starts._

_"Oh, my God!," I scoff, standing and turning away. _

_"No, Lindsay, really," he says, "we need someone to keep people from getting hurt. Don't you want that? Don't you want people like that guy who attacked you all those months ago to be punished? Cause I hate to break it to you, Lindsay, but people aren't always going to stop them. People are going to get hurt, if we don't-"_

_"Why?!," I demand, turning to face him, "why us?! Why does it have to be you?"_

_"Cause no one else will do it!," he shouts back, "No one else is going to, Lindsay! And when I looked into your eyes after that guy tried to..." he shakes his head. "I have to do something, ok? And-and Bass agrees!" _

_"So, what? You and Bass are going to put crowns on your heads, start a country? I hate to break it to you, Miles, but it takes more than two guys with guns to start a country."_

_"I know that. Those guys, that were just in here? They want in. They think it's a great idea." _

_"Miles, this is-this is crazy-"_

_"Look me in the eye," he says, standing up, "and tell me that there's not at least a part of you that thinks that this is what this backwards ass world needs. The United States- there is no U.S.A. anymore, Lindsay. So someone needs to step in and start something else."_

_"Even if you could pull it off," I say, because have to admit. If they could do it, it needs to be done. "It won't happen overnight. I- we need to get to Ben. Soon. Now."_

_"I can't leave, Lindsay," he says, shocking. "These guys... they're looking up to me now. I leave...," he shakes his head, his hands on his hips, "what's that gonna show them?"_

_"Really?," I ask, "you're really being like this?"_

_"I'm sorry, Linds, really, I am," he says, handing me my letter and walking towards the exit, "but we're not leaving. Not now." _

_"We-? Wait!," I call, hurrying after him, ducking out of the tent. He's trying to get away from me, so I have to nearly run to keep up with him. "You do what you want, but I'm still going."_

_"To Chicago? By yourself? No, no you're not."_

_"Miles, you can't just tell me no like th-"_

_"Hey, guys," Bass says, coming out from a tent. "What's up? Jeremy said we had to talk." Jeremy comes out after him and looks between me and Miles. Guess I don't look very happy with him. _

_"Found him," he says, looking at me, offering a small smile and a look that says 'what's wrong?'_

_"Linds?," Bass says, putting an arm around my waist. He looks between me and Miles. "What's... going on?" I look at Miles for a long moment. Then pull away from Bass. _

_"You tell him," I say, and walk away. _

_"Tell-tell me what?," I hear Bass ask, "Li- Miles? What is..." His voice trails off as I get farther away. _

_"Hey!," Jeremy calls. I look behind me to see him jogging up to me. "Lindsay, wait!" I pull him by the arm out of the pathway and look at him, remembering how he too wanted to get to family._

_ "You still want to go to Boston?_

* * *

We abandon the cart the second we can see the outline of the camp. Bass' and I are still holding hands. It took us about an hour to get here. Miles looks over his shoulder at us.

"You know the plan?," he asks, talking to everybody, but looking at me. I nod. He looks doubtful. "Lindsay, maybe-"

"I'm here, Miles," I interrupt, "I can't back out now, even if I wanted to." He sighs.

"Alright," he says, "Here we go. Charlie, Rachel, c'mon." He and the two women run off. The plan is for the three of them to quietly take out the guards at the front, while Bass and I take out the ones at the back. Then, everyone esle sneaks in, gets a tent-ful of kids out, and takes them to the rendezvous point. Each group has one person watching the tent door while they work. For us, that's Connor. Once we take out the guards, Scanlon, Connor, and Vincent join us and that makes up our group.

"Ok," Bass says, whispering now, to Scanlon, "remember. As soon as you see the guards go down, run to meet us."

"You got it, general," Scanlon whispers back. He looks at me. "Be careful, alright?" I nod and smile.

"See you soon," I murmur. Bass kisses me quickly and then we break into a run, toward the camp. He looks at me, pain in his eyes, as we duck behind a tree. We can't talk now, but I know he's thinking what I am. Now we have to let go. He brings my hand up and kisses it before letting it go. I walk out from our hiding place, being careful to snap a twig. I cringe, expecting to hear the 'hey!' or 'who's there' that is to be expected. But none comes. I hold my breath, and then hear:

"I know you're there," a voice says. I look over and see one of the guards, maybe twenty feet away.

"I'm just looking for my friends," I lie, putting my hands up, "we were making camp, and-"

"Oh, shut up," he snaps, "you think I don't know who you are?"

"I- you- _what?,"_ I ask in disbelief. Bass then comes up behind him and slits his throat, right on queue. Ok, so them being quiet didn't matter. Everything went according to plan. I nod to Bass and circle around a large tree, waiting for his friend to come.

"Hey, Brad, what's going on?," he asks, passing the tree. I slide around to I'm behind him. He sees Bass and freeze, "Did you find whoe-" I pull my knife across his throat and let the body drop. Then I look across the woods to see the outline of Scanlon.

"Think he saw that?," I ask Bass quietly. Within seconds, we can see the three guys running towards us.

"I'd say they did," he replies, grinning. I don't smile back. This isn't a happy moment. He notices and his smile falls. "Sorry."

"Alright," Scanlon says, "just say charge." Bass pulls his eyes off of me and nods.

"Let's go." We run. I look towards the front of the camp, to see Charlie, Miles, Rachel, and Jason already leading a group out. We need to hurry. They'll be sending the next group to the front. Wait... we're literally tag-teaming. We're tag-team liberating a camp! I feel Bass' hand slip into mine again as we stop in front of a large tent. I look at him. It's getting dark now, and his blue eyes shine. I smile at him now, because we're doing what I wanted all along. He's saving people. Innocent kids.

"Alright, go," Connor whispers, "anyone comes this way, I'll let you know." I open the tent flap, and go inside first. I feel the others come in behind me. I look around at all the kids inside, laying close together on cots. There's maybe a dozen in here. The youngest can't be any older than fifteen. Wow. That's horrible! I go to the back row, on the left, and Bass gets the back row on the tight. Scanlon and Vincent start at the front. Preparing for attack, I gently shake the shoulder of a boy around sixteen.

"Hey!," he shouts, jerking up, reaching out with his fist. I dodge him quickly. "Who the hell-"

"Shh, it's ok," I whisper, "it's alright. I'm here to get you out."

"Yeah, right," he mumbles. "This is another test."

"No, it's not," I say, shaking my head. "It's-"

"Yeah, bull crap," he spits, "Don't treat me like an idiot? Where's Lexie, huh? Where the hell is she?!"

"Sh-sh-shh!," I try to quiet him as he yells at me. Bass comes over. "Please, be quiet!"

"Need me to sedate him?," he asks.

"No, don't," I stop his hand from reaching into his back by putting a hand on his arm. "Just let me...," I sigh, and look at the boy, "do I look like a soldier to you?"

"Prove it!," he snarls, "prove you're not one of them!"

"I...," I sigh, unsure of how to prove it. Then it hits me. "Do you know who Sebastian Monroe is?"

"Uh, yeah," he says, with a 'duh' tone, "even without their crazy drugs, I know he's who they want." I look at Bass.

"This is him," I say, "this is Sebastian Monroe."

"Yeah, r-" he stops as I pull up Bass' sleeve, to reveal the burned off "M". I know they've been trained to look for it. He looks at me. "You're actually here to rescue me? You're Lindsay?"

"Not just you," I reply, with a small smile, "everyone. All of the kids here."

"We're not kids," he says. I smile.

"Of course you're not ," I say, But we need to go. Is there anything you'd like to take?"

"No," he says, "we don't have anything of our own."

"Ok," I nod. "Will you get your friends up for me? It'll be quicker if I don't have to convince them every time." He nods, and stands up, and then starts shaking his fellow soldiers awake. When they're all up and alert, Scanlon checks with Connor to make sure the coast is clear. Apparently it is, because Vincent and Scanlon start running out. Bass and I hurry the teenagers.

"Thank you," the one I woke says to me as he passes me. I nod, and then Bass and I follow the group out, our guns at the ready. Once we're out, Connor joins us, and we run toward the exit, herding the group out.

"We've gotta go," Connor says, as we go, "I heard someone saying that they're switching gaurds in twenty. The next group's gotta get in, get out quick." I nod and look over to Bass to confirm he heard it. We're finally getting to the back gates when I hear a desperate cry.

"Please! Help, someone!," a girl's voice calls. I slow to a stop.

"Lindsay, c'mon," Bass asks, stopping as everyone else runs away. I hear another cry and find that it's coming from a building near me to the right. I look at Bass.

"Go," I whisper, then say aloud, "Bass, go. Get those kids to safety. I'm going to help her."

"Lindsay, we gotta get out," he says, taking my hand, "the next group-"

"Send them back, and I'll leave with them," I say. He looks doubtful, and his hand tightens. The deal was, nobody goes solo. That's too dangerous. But those kids need him more than I do right now. "Bass... now you have to let go."He looks at me for a minute. Then he lets my hand fall.

"I'll see you in ten minutes," he says. I nod.

"I love you," I say, already turning toward the building. I run up to the door. The shouts continue, but now I hear a man's voice as well.

"Shut up!," he shouts. The screams become muffled, and that's when I try to open the door. It's locked. I shoot the handle and barrel through. I point my gun at the man and then take in the scene.

The man is in uniform. But not fully. His shirt is untucked and his belt on the floor. The girl I heard scream is gagged, and it appears she was blindfolded too, but the cloth slipped off and hangs around her neck. She's bent over a table, the man towering over her, pressing her hands against the wood, making her stay in that position. And finally, my brain recognises that her uniform slacks are gone, and she's in her underwear. He was trying to assualt her. The shock gone, the emotions come forth. She looks at me, and in her eyes, I see fear. A fear that I have felt before. It's so strong, that I see myself in her eyes. But I can't think about that now. I _won't._

"Get the hell away from her!," I shout. He just now notices me. All of that... everything that happened since I entered the room happened so fast, a millisecond. "Let her go, back away, and put your hands in the air. He contemplates it, and then lets go. He starts to back away, but he doesn't put his hands up. I see one of them twitch slightly, and then he reaches for his gun. I shoot the hand and she girl screams through her gag. The man shouts in pain, and swears. He grabs his gun and goes to point it at the girl. But I shoot him twice in the chest, before he can do it. I walk over to make sure he's dead. He's not. he's still breathing raggedly. I think about what he was trying to do. And what he can do if they somehow save him in time. So I shoot him right in the heart. Then I look up. The girl hasn't moved, her eyes are wide. I feel emotion spread through my body. Sadness for her, anger for the man, fear that they heard the shots and are coming, desperation to save her.

"I know you're scared," I say quietly. "But we need to go. They heard that, I'm sure." She stares at me. "Please. If we're against more than just him, I don't think I can save you." She seems to snap out of it, and quickly locates her pants, pulling them on rapidly. She pulls the gag out.

"Thank you," she gasps through her tears.

"Thank me later," I reply, "we're not in the clear y-" the door bursts open again and three Patriots come in, guns out. Their guns are not out. Why? But then one starts to call out numbers.

"943," he starts.

"Cover your ears!," I shout. She does so. She probably knows what they're doing. I shoot the number caller, and then the other two. "Come on!" She stares at them. _"Please,_ we have to go!" I think the numbers that she did hear started to do something, but because the code was uncompleted, the switch didn't flip. It's stuck in the middle. It's flickering and I have to shut it off. "We need to go!" I grab her hand and pull her out of the building. I see people not in uniform running towards me. "Derek! Josh!" I see them, and we duck into the building wa just in to hide I whisper, "Thank God! Did Bass send you!"

"He sent the next group, but when we heard shots, we all ran here," Josh answers. "What happened?"

"I'll explain later!," I reply, "Derek, take her to the rendezvous point, alright?"

"What are you gonna do?"

"I have to get the rest of the kids out," I say.

"Your husband would kill us-"

"No, he won't!," I whisper, "Just, please, make sure she's safe!"

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's borderline soldier mode," I say, "she has to get out of here and quick. All rhe fighting, it might turn the switch the wrong way."

"Huh?"

"Just go, please!," I beg. He nods finally, and takes her wrist, pulling her away. I look at Josh. "Are you staying?" He nods.

"Yes, ma'am," he says.

"Good, grab a rifle," I say. We get them off the dead men at our feet, and run out into the action. I pray as I run that I don't get shot. I shoot an oncoming soldier, and then have Josh stand guard while I duck into a tent. I wake up all the kids quickly, and then adress them. "I'm here to rescue you. If you don't believe me, then look outside and ask yourself why there are men ready to shoot you. If you'd rather stay here, and become a soldier with no free will, that's your choice. But I promise you, if you risk it, I will do everything I can to get you out. If you have anything to use as a shield, bring it. First three people who go out this door will get a gun." Two guys and a girl jump at that and pass me. I give two of them the other rifles from the dead men and one my shotgun. That seems to get everyone else to go out too.

They run out, and I send Josh with them, finding another one of our guys: Scanlon.

"Why are you here?!," I ask, turning to shoot someone.

"Came back once they got to rendezvous," he shouts, shooting. He's grinning! Well, he is from a war clan. "Miles and Jason and Bass are on their way back too!" When it appears there are no more immediately running for us, have him cover me while I enter another tent. This one is in chaos. Two teens, both boys, lie on the floor dead. The other seven are staring at a soldier with a rifle.

"Does anybody else wanna give escaping a shot?," he barks, "cause a shot is exactly what'll go through your brain if you-" he drops as I shoot him through the back of the head.

"You want to escape?," I ask, "let's go." They all follow me. We run out and then one right behind me gets shot in the back.

"No!," I scream, as Scanlon shoots the culprit. I look at the person, a child, really. She's maybe fourteen. "The-the damage isn't too bad! We can-"

"Lindsay, no," Scanlon says. I try to bend down and pick her up. "We can't-"

"We can save her!," I shriek, "we can-"

"Make sure m-my brother... doesn't get... caught," she chokes out, "he's ten. If you... see him, pl-please... tell him I...," she closes her eyes. Mine widen.

"No, tell him yourself," I whisper.

"Lindsay," Scanlon grabs my arm.

"She's still... she's still alive," I argue.

"Tell him I'm sorry for running off," she says with a burst of strength. Then she dies.

"No!," I sob.

"Lindsay, we gotta go!," Scanlon shouts, dragging me up, "I know it hurts, but we gotta go before more end up just like her!" I nod and run, blinking through my tears. We check several tents, they're all empty.

"Ok," he says, "that's the last of them. Let's go!" I give another quick glance to the girl, but Scanlon grabs my wrist, and pulls me down, then shoots somone behind me. I guess he missed, because a bullet whizzes by my hear. I feel it, the heat of it. I whip around, and shoot the soldier. He's down. Scanlon lets go and we start running again. Then two soldiers come of nowhere.

"Weapons on the ground, hands up!," one yells.

"Damn," Scanlon mutters, "how many are there?" We start slowly putting our weapons on the ground, and then put our hands in the air. They come over to us, and start handcuffing us from behind. Before both my wrists are cuffed, I bring my elbow up to smash into his face. While he's in shock, I grab his handgun and shoot him, and then point it at Scanlon's guard. I shoot- except I don't. The gun clicks.

"Son of a bitch," I mutter, pulling out my sword. The guy reaches for his gun and I slice his arm and then run through his heart. When he drops, I grab his gun and Scanlon and I take off. I notice he's already handcuffed. I'll have to get those off later.

It takes us about five minutes to get to the rendezvous point. It's dark now. Everyone is in chaos. I look through the mixed crowd of scared teenagers and tired clan guys. I see Rachel administering first aid to some. Charlie and Jason are trying to calm some down. I see Connor, trying to get a fire started. I run over to Connor.

"Connor!," I shout, reaching him.

"Lindsay? Thank God! You were gone way longer than-"

"There was trouble," I say, winded, "where's your dad?"

"He went back for you!," he says, "him and your brother."

"They... oh, no," I breathe. "We have to go get them."

"Lindsay, no, you barely got out," Scanlon protests.

"But Miles and Bass are in there! We have to-"

"No need," I hear Miles say. I whip around to see him and Bass, walking towards us. "We're fine." I sigh in relief, and run to Bass, throwing my arms around him. I kiss him and then touch my lips, looking at my hand.

"Why... are you covered in soot?"

"See for yourself," Bass says, with a slight grin. He steps back and points at the camp, before going to wash off his face. I look at the camp to see it on fire, the flames licking the deep blue sky.

"You burned it?," I ask.

"Yep," Miles says, coming to stand beside me. "Once we saw you and Scanlon get out... we saw some soldiers run after you. We figured a fire was a nice, big distraction to keep them from chasing us."

"Ok, but what about forest fires?"

"It's fine," he says, "we know what we're doing. Don't worry." I take another moment to take it in, and then nod. Bass comes up behind me, and wraps his arms around me, hid chin on my shoulder.

"Thank you," I murmur, turning to face him.

"For what?," he chuckles.

"Doing this," I reply. He smiles and shrugs.

"It was the right thing to do."

"I know. And thank you."

"You're welcome," he says. I stretch to meet his lips. After a quick kiss, I move his arms off of me.

"Ok," I say, looking over the crowd, "I guess we have to talk to them now."

"Then let's do it," he says, taking my hand. I nod, and climb up onto a wagon so it's like a stage. I swallow and clear my throat.

"Uh, excuse me," I say, raising my voice, "Um, I know you're all really confused, and some of you are injured. I apologize for that. But, uh, you're safe now, and no one is going to make you do anything anymore. So, we have a doctor with adequate medical supplies about an hour from here, if you'd like to come. If you do, you will have food, a place to sleep, protection at absolutely no cost, I promise. If you want to come, we have plenty of room on thes wagons for most of you. Some will have to walk, so I'd like the injured to get on first, alright?"

There's a lot of chatter as they talk amongst themselves. They seem suspicious. I can't really blame them, I guess. Finally, the boy I first spoke to raises his voice.

"We should go," he says. He makes his way through the crowd and climbs up to the wagon next to me. "These people are offering us a place to stay. And we can trust them. I mean, they did save us, right?" There's some agreement. "Besides, if we don't all go, how will we find out who's still alive and who's not?" They all seem to agree on that. "I'm going." He gets down and start helping injured people get on. I smile as their suspicion goes away, and is replaced with relief. Bass comes over to me.

"Good job," he murmurs. I'm about to thank him when I see the girl I saved from being assaulted. She still looks so scared. I go over to her.

"Hi," I say gently. "Is-is there anything I can do for you?" She just shakes her head. "Ok, well, why don't you get on a wagon, and you can get some medical help? You have a cut, on your forehead. Then you can rest and eat and just relax, alright?" She starts to say something, and then trembles and hugs me. She takes me by surprise, but I eventually hug back.

"Thank you," she stutters, "thank you so much."

"It's ok," I whisper, "really. You're alright now. You're ok." She lets go and gets up onto a cart. I look at Charlie. "Are you driving?"

"Yeah," she nods, "me and Jason."

"Ok, who else?"

"I think... Miles and my mom are driving the other one," she says.

"Ok," I reply, "do me a favour and go see if all the injured are in a wagon. If not, I'll have to send someone to get another one." She nods and goes to figure that out.

Bass smiles at me, and kisses me again. He tells me that I did good today and he's proud of me. But I'm not too proud of myself. I don't even _know_ how many men I killed today. Or how many kids died because _I_ couldn't save them.

"They're all good," Charlie says, "and I talked to some of the uninjured ones, they don't mind walking."

"Ok, thanks," I say, "tell Miles we're ready to go." She nods. A few seconds later, I see him climb onto the front of a wagon, Rachel next to him.

"Let's move out!," he calls, and we start back to the house. I take Bass' hand and try to stay awake. I'm ready to sleep.

* * *

_I sit cross-legged in the tent that belongs to Bass and I. Jeremy sits next to me. Bass comes in and I automatically feel bad. He's so good to me and I'm leaving him. I look up into his blue eyes, trying not to love his scruff too much. He's let his facial hair grow out and I really, really like it. _

_"Miles tells me you want to leave?," he asks quietly, sitting on the cot. _

_"I...," I stand up and sit next to him. I take his warm hand in mine, "I have to go to Chicago, Bass. My brother is alive and so are the kids and I want to see them."_

_"But, Lindsay, Miles and I..."_

_"It's been two years, Bass," I say quietly. "I need to see them."_

_"Well, we'll go," he says, "but we can't now. Miles and I-"_

_"Are starting an army, I know. And that's great, Bass, really. But I'm not starting an army. And I can't wait. Ben will be waiting for me."_

_"Lindsay, I can't leave," he says. I put my forehead against his._

_"I know," I murmur, "I knew you'd say that. But I have to."_

_"You-you can't," he protests, "you can't go alone."_

_"I won't," I say, "I'll go with Jeremy. He wants to go to Boston, but he said he'll take me to Chicago first." Bass stares at me._

_"No, Lindsay, you can't- no," he says, standing up. I follow suit. "You can't just go!"_

_"You can't keep me here, Bass," I say softly. "I'm going. Tomorrow morning." He takes my hands. _

_"Lindsay, please," he begs, "Please, stay with me."_

_"Not if it means never seeing my family," I whisper. "Please. Don't argue. We've only got one more night together. Don't make it terrible by yelling at me." He looks sad. So sad. "I'm sorry, Bass. I love you."_

_"I'll give you guys some privacy," Jeremy says, and leaves._

_"I love you too," Bass says, "that's why I want you to stay."_

_"Bass, please don't," I beg. I pull him towards the corner of the tent. "Look, I-I made you beef stew. I actually got beef and-and I found wine. And, please, don't be angry. We'll eat, and then we'll spend one more night together, ok?" He still looks so sad. _

_"I love you. And I wish I could go with you."_

_"I know." Honestly, I think this whole army thing is ridiculous. Starting an army? What are they thinking? But I'd never say that. I think it's a good idea- in theory. I think they're only wasting their time trying to do it. I mean, I'm all for making the world a better place. But at what cost? What's the price here? Bass sits in front of the table I set up._

_"Ok. One more night together." _

_"Thank you," I whisper and smile. As I sit across from him, the man I love the most in the whole world, I know that if the price is his life, or Miles, then I would never let them pay it._

* * *

**Please review! :3**


	18. Memories of You

I wake up without opening my eyes, and run my hand across the bed, searching for Bass. When I feel nothing but a slightly warmed bed, I open my eyes.

"Bass?," I mumble, as I look around. It's cold. It's getting into October, I think. I grab some clothes and pull them on quickly. I open the door. "Bass?" No answer. I walk into the kitchen, and see no one. Of course. They're probably all down at the hospital. Where I should be. I open the front door and step onto the porch.

"There she is," Bass says. I turn my head to see him sitting on a blanket with Angie. He's in short sleeves and she's wearing a dress.

"Wha- _Bass!,"_ I say immediately, picking her up, "it's _freezing_ out! What are you _doing?!"_

"It's not that cold, Linds," he says, giving me a confused look, and standing as well. "It's not that cold. You ok?"

"I'm fine," I snap, "but it's freezing." I go inside.

"So you're still mad at me, huh?," Bass asks.

"I'm not mad," I reply, finding a bottle and feeding the baby.

"I just fed her," Bass says.

"Well, she's eating, isn't she?," I ask. He sighs.

"Lindsay," he sits down next to me, "you're gonna be mad at me for taking care of you?"

"I was fine. I could've handled it."

"You were about to pass out. You needed-"

"What I _needed,"_ I interrupt, pulling the bottle away, because she won't eat anymore. "Was to help those kids. Because she- they needed me."

"Yeah, ok, _she?,"_ Bass asks, "what is your attachments to that one girl?" I start to answer but I don't for fear of telling him the truth. The truth being what I felt yesterday when I saw the fear in her eyes. And that moment of fear when I saw Bass after that. And last night, when he climbed into bed after he thought I was sleeping, and I was ready to tell him to go away or punch him or leave. I was scared. And even though I knew I wasn't in Philadelphia, I wanted to run from him.

"She just- she needs someone, Bass, ok?," I say. "I'm going down to the hospital." I walk around him, the baby still in my arms.

"Lindsay, wait, let-let me drive you, alright?"

"No, Bass, that's ok."

"Linds, c'mon, I've gotta go down there anyway, it's no trouble."

"Bass-"

"No, I'm taking you, let's go."

"Bass, I don't want to go. Not with you."

"Not-not with _me?_ What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Don't worry about it, ok?," I ask, walking away. He grabs my wrist and jerks me back to him.

"What the hell is going on with you?"

"L-let go, Bass," I say, trying to keep my voice strong. "Please."

"We're going. _Together._ Give me the baby."

"No."

"Lindsay, give me the baby!," he shouts hitting the table. He's still gripping my wrist, bruising it. He reaches for the baby, and I jerk away, and run.

"Lindsay!," he shouts, but not angrily. Worried. I look up. Wait- I'm still sitting at the table? And he's not getting violent...

"What?"

"I asked you if you wanted me to watch the baby while you're at the hospital."

"You did?," I whisper, looking at my wrist. There aren't any bruises there.

"Lindsay, are you ok?"

"Yeah, I... I'm fine," I reply. "I-I need to go, though. Don't worry about the baby, I've got her."

"Lindsay, it's fine."

"No, I know," I say quickly, "I know it's fine. But I want to take her, ok?" He nods.

"Ok, if you're sure," he murmurs. I nod.

"Yeah, it's fine," I say, "where's the- oh." I find the diaper bag on the counter and grab it. I start to head out the door.

"Lindsay," Bass calls. I stop, but I don't turn to face him. "I love you." I sigh, trying to gain my composure. Ok. It's ok. I'm not in Philly. No, I know that. He didn't hurt me. I'm just shook up from yesterday's events. I'm fine. I love him and I'm fine.

"I love you, too," I say finally, and turn to kiss him. Angela reaches to him, getting his attention, and puts her palm to her lips, then extends it toward him. I smile. When did she learn to blow kisses? "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For acting so crazy," I reply, "I'm not sure what's wrong with me."

_"Nothing_ is wrong with you," he says, and gently puts a strand of hair behind my ear. I smile again.

"You're sweet," I murmur, "but don't lie to me. I'll see you later."

"Yeah, sure," he nods, "tell Miles I'll be over soon, alright?" I nod and then walk out the door.

* * *

**Two years after the Blackout**

_I'm miserable. It's raining. I like rain. I used to love rain. My brothers and Bass and I used to play in it. And of course, Ben would go in when it started coming down hard, but he still had fun. Even in college, when I walked everywhere, I had rainboots and a really cute yellow jacket. Which I'm wearing along with the boots, pulled over my regular ones. But still. It's not fun when you walk all day and you know you'll most likely be sleeping on wet ground. _

_"Lindsay?," Jeremy calls. _

_"Yeah?," I ask as I fiddle with my necklace. I replace it for fear of it getting wet and breaking. _

_"Do you want to stop and eat?" _

_"No, that's ok," I shake my head. "Unless you want to? But maybe we should wait until it stops raining." God knows when that'll be, I think bitterly._

_"No need," he says, "there's a diner just up ahead." I look up, expecting to see an old, boarded up, dark diner. Instead, I see an old, open diner, with candles in the windows._

_"How...?" Am I hallucinating? No, because Jeremy is seeing it too._

_"Let's go find out," he says, with a chuckle. We quicken our pace to a jog until we're under the awning. I remove my hood, and the few front strands of hair that still got wet behind my ear. They broke loose from my ponytail. "Look." He points up. I follow his finger to see a sign that reads:_

_ 'Wesley Family Diner_

_open every day but Sunday_

_5 am to 7pm' _

_I look at Jeremy and he shrugs, opening the door for me. I go inside to see a classic diner-style diner, with booths and a bar. There are about ten booths, and three of them are filled. One with a family of four, and the other two with pairs of people. One person is at the end of the bar. _

_Jeremy, ever the confident one, walks right up to the bar and sits in the middle. Unwilling to stand by myself, I do the same. A pretty girl who looks about twenty or twenty-one walks over to us from behind the counter._

_"Welcome to our diner, can I take your coats?"_

_"Sure," Jeremy says cheerfully, taking off his. "Why?"_

_"When it rains like this, we take them and put them by the fire," she replies. She's being polite, but you can tell she's pretty bored. She brightens a little at seeing Jeremy. I smile as she blushes, clearly finding him attractive. _

_"C'mon, Linds," he nudges me, "We can trust them." I give him a look to ask how he can be so sure. "Just trust me, alright?" I sigh but strip off my yellow jacket and hand it to her. I thank her quietly as she leaves to (hopefully) do what she said with our jackets. _

_"How do you know you can trust these people, Jeremy?"_

_"Oh, Lindsay, c'mon," he snorts, "it's not any different than when the lights were on. I mean, really. If this was before the Blackout, you wouldn't be all suspicious, would you?"_

_"True," I allow, and then counter, "but I also wouldn't have seen several war clans or whatever before we got here." It's true. Jeremy and I have stumbled into the remains of war clan victims, and even seen a few of them at work. Thankfully, we never ran into them ourselves. But still. It's not just killing. It's killing for sport. We've noticed that some of the bodies have markings on their upper arm. And, watching from afar, we saw a group moving by with the same markings that we'd seen on some. It's happened several times. I've counted about three different clans with markings. _

_An older woman, who resembles the girl a lot, probably her mom, comes by and pours us coffee. It's been months since I've had coffee. And I almost shout in delight when she sets sugar and creamer in front of us. Jeremy lifts his eyebrows at me as if to say 'told you so.' I ignore it and accept the coffee gratefully. When she hands us a small, hand written menu, I'm almost taken aback by how much structure some people still have. And I thought my group was lucky to have found a community of tents. Which we were, but still. This is impressive. _

_Jeremy and I both order eggs, toast, and bacon, and she smiles and writes it down, saying that that's their most popular order. She hands it to someone I'm assuming is her son and then turns to us. _

_"So where is it that you two are headed?," she asks. I look at Jeremy and let him answer._

_"Uh, Chicago. She's got family up there."_

_"I see. And how long you been traveling?"_

_"About two months," he replies. _

_"Wow. Wish I had your strength."_

_"Well, actually," he clears his throat, "if you don't mind my asking, how is it you have such a nice, well-stocked place? I mean, most people are lucky to have a tent these days."_

_"Oh, I don't mind at all," she says, running her manicured hands across the counter lovingly, "See, kids, my husband and I owned this place before the lights shut off. And, well, when they did go off, we didn't see any reason not to keep it going."_

_"But the eggs and the bacon? Milk?"_

_"From the farm in town," she says, "I'm guessing this is the first time you've come across civilization in a while?"_

_"Well, we were living in a campground with about two dozen other groups before we set out. And that's the closest we've come to finding any sort of structure." _

_"Well, it was hard at first," she admits, "but now? I don't know... I kind of like it better." She smiles and I can't help but smile myself at the happiness she lets off. "People helping each other, for the most part. Mr. Finch gives us supplies from his farm, and he eats for free, or something like that. It's nice." She glances back into the kitchen through a small window and chuckles. "I mean, sure, food takes a little longer to cook nowadays, and we don't broadcast the sports games live. But as long as we keep the rain out, the food in, and pay off the Wilks, it's all good here." _

_"What-what was that?," I speak up, "about the- the who?"_

_"The Wilks?," she questions, and her face falls, "the Wilkinson boys? It's a clan who stomps around this area."_

_"And you pay them?," Jeremy asks. "Why?"_

_"For protection," she says, making quotation marks with her one hand while the other rests on her hip. "I mean, this world is nice, but it is different from what it used to be. A couple months after the lights went out, these boys came into our town, shooting around. I don't know where on earth they got so many guns, but... anway, they demanded payment from our little town, based on how many families lived here. So, every month, sometimes more, we find the money and give our share to Mayor Joslin. And that's that."_

_"And what happens if you don't?," Jeremy voices my thoughts. The woman looks at her daughter sadly as she brings food to one of the booths. _

_"Depends," she says quietly, "we've never had trouble with it here, but I've got a friend who lives in a village about an hour from here. They control that one, too. Well... they're not so fortunate. Once, they just stole some crops. But another time...," she sighs heavily, her eyes still on her girl, "they took some poor girl. They never saw her again."_

_"That's horrible," Jeremy murmurs, while I stare into my coffee sadly. "Someone should do something."_

_"Oh, a few have tried," she says, "they either came back wounded with warnings or they never came back at all. If you want my opinion, they should just stop. It's only gonna cause more problems."_

_"The problem," her son says, setting our plates in front of us. " Is that they go in small groups. Four, five men, maybe. With, what? Swords? Maybe a shotgun-."_

_"You hush," his mother says._

_"What we need," he continues, refilling Jeremy's coffee. "Is an army. Not necessarily a whole Marine's unit or something. But just some guys who are ready to fight when they're needed. They used to have those right?"_

_"They did," I reply, after swallowing a bite of delicious scrambled eggs, "It was called a militia, and it was a long time ago." _

_"Were they trained?"_

_"Somewhat," I nod, "but they were really just civilians who only fought when their home was in danger. They were pretty popular during the American Revolution." _

_"Well," he says, with a grin, "if someone wants to start one of those up, I'd be glad to join." _

_"You'd do no such thing," his mother snaps, "besides. Who on earth would be the ones to say 'let's start an army'?" _

_ "You'd be surprised," I mutter. _

* * *

I take off my jacket, and hang it on the coat rack in waiting room. In the ER, there are several people hanging out, talking quietly. I see a lot of the kids still sleeping. I guess it is pretty early. I walk over to Gene and Miles.

"Hey," I say quietly.

"Hey, Linds," Miles says. "You're up early." He smiles and puts his finger out for Angela to grab. "Did this one wake you up?" I smile.

"No, I just wanted to get here early," I reply, looking around, "have any of them left yet?"

"No," Gene says, "They all dropped pretty soon after getting here last night. Most of them are still sleeping. One of them told me they were planning on having a meeting later today, when everyone woke up. He said he hasn't even found most of them. Kept asking about a girl named Lexie."

"Yeah, one of the boys mentioned something about a Lexie last night," I murmur. "Any injuries?"

"Surprisingly, not much," he says, "quite a few were bleeding last night, but we got them patched up quick. Only two had bullets we had to remove. One was tricky too, I'll admit, but Rachel was a great help."

"I'm sorry, I should've been here," I sigh. "Bass was being ridiculous and made me-"

"I don't usually agree with him," Gene says, "but last night, he was right. You were exhausted." I huff in annoyance.

"Ok, what about that girl?," I ask. "The one I told you about last night?"

"Yeah, um, you're not gonna like this," Gene says.

"What?"

"She fell asleep last night," Miles says, "and when she woke up, she was freaking out. We thought maybe it was some of the brainwashing or something, and maybe it was, cause she put up a good fight. But, now we're kinda thinking she was having a breakdown. So we sedated her."

"You _what?!"_

"Well, we didn't know what was wrong!," Miles protests, "you never told us. You just said to keep an eye on her. Anyway, she's fine. She's still sleeping. Gene says her vitals are nornal or whatever. But Scanlon is watching her now, on the third floor."

"I'm going to see her," I say.

"Lindsay, she's still sleeping," Gene says.

"Well, she's gonna wake up sometime," I say, opening the door to the staircase.

I climb up to the third floor, and find Scanlon, eating an apple while he sits on the counter. He catches sight of me.

"Hey, Linds," he calls. I walk over to him, and he touches Angela on the cheek, "Hey, Ang."

"How are you?"

"I'm good," he shrugs, "where's your husband?"

"Back at the house, he'll be here," I murmur, looking in through open window at the girl, "how is she?"

"Mm," he says, with a shrug. He lets out a long yawn, and rubs his next, "about the same. But I'll tell you what. She gave me a hell of a fight last night. The things you women can do with your claws." I smile and give a soft chuckle.

"They're called nails," I point out.

"Right, well, anyway. Some of the guys have some water boiling, if you want to make tea."

"Oh, sure, thanks," I nod, pushing off the counter. "Would you like some?"

"Yeah, sure," he murmurs, "but just, like, regular tea. None of your fruity crap."

"Ok," I say with a small laugh. I switch Angela over to my other arm and walk into the kitchen on this floor. "Hey, guys."

I'm greeted with a chorus of 'Morning, Lindsay's or similar sentiments.

"Can we help you with something?," Andy asks.

"No, I'm just making some tea," I reply, and grab two mugs. I put in the bags and add water. I murmur a goodbye, grabbing the rolling baby swing on my way out and walk back to Scanlon. I put the mugs on the counter before placing Angela into the swing. I let her play with a teething ring and then hand Scanlon a mug. "Here."

"Thanks," he says, and sips it, leaning against the counter. "So."

"Oh, that tone," I mutter, "what's up?"

"You wanna tell me what happened with this girl?," he asks. I sigh, sipping my tea.

"Um, not really."

"I figured," he says, looking at her. "Although, I've got a pretty good guess, based on what she said last night when she was trying to claw me to death."

"I'm going to let you keep that guess to yourself."

"Lindsay," he starts, in that voice. That voice that voice that everyone uses when they want me to talk.

"Don't," I beg, "Don't do this. Everyone makes me talk, Scanlon. Everyone wants to force me to talk about things that I don't want to talk about. Except you. Don't start that."

"I'm not gonna make you talk, Linds," he says, "but I want you to know that you can if you need to."

"I don't need to talk," I say, "but thank you." I turn my eyes back to the hospital room to see her, awake, tugging at the handcuff on her wrist. She looks like she's about to scream. "I'm going in."

"Woah, woah, wait," Scanlon says, catching my arm. "give her time to cool off."

"I can't," I reply softly, "Bass will be here soon. Just watch Angela until then, please?"

"Ok," he says. I nod, and carefully enter the room. She looks toward me, ready to yell. Then, her look softens. Then, she gets angry again.

"You!," she accuses, "you're one of them!?"

"No!," I say quickly, "No, I-I'm not. I'm not a Patriot, I promise."

"Then why am I here? Handcuffed to a bed?!"

"Because you attacked one of our guys last night," I reply, calmly, "I have a key, and I'm going to uncuff you, ok?" She nods, slowly. As I get the key, I think about how similar this is to the Heather situation.

"So, you're not one of them?," she asks, her voice quivering.

"I got you out, right?," I ask softly. She nods again.

"So... where's everybody else?"

"All the other cadets? They're here, somewhere. And, I promise, no one is forcing you to stay here. You can leave, if you want."

"Can I stay?"

"Of course. If-if you want. Do you have any family, though? Anyone you'd like to try and find?"

"No. They were all killed in the typhus outbreak last summer."

"Oh," I say softly, "I'm sorry."

"How's Mark?," she asks suddenly.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who that is."

"He was my friend," she says, "we were in the same bunk. Well, until they..." she takes a deep breath and then starts crying.

"It's ok," I say quickly. "You're fine, now. Do you... do you want to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about it?," she asks bitterly. "He raped me, that's all there is to it."

"He didn't, though," I attempt, "You made it out, remember?" She shakes her head violently, putting her face into her hands and sobbing. A horrifying realization strikes me. "That wasn't the first time, was it?"

"No," she gasps out. "No, he'd already done it twice."

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry," I whisper, my heart breaking. "And it was the same guy?"

"I think," she whispers, "I was blindfolded the whole time. But his voice... he only ever said 'shut up' the first time, but the _second..._ he'd say things, call me names or tell me to do things. But it wasn't _just_ because he wanted to. It was just... it was a punishment."

"What did they tell you you did?," I ask, phrasing it carefully.

"About a week ago," she says, "Mark had whispered something to me and some others about escaping and, I-I guess they heard. So, uh, they, um... someone came into our tent one night," she lets out a sob while I try to keep from crying. "And asked if we wanted to leave. I was stupid. I was so pathetically stupid..."

"Your name is Lexie, isn't it?," I ask, putting the pieces together. She nods.

"I got up, and then they started hitting me and blindfolded me and shoved me into some room and that's when he... when that guy..." she squeezes her eyes shut and bites down on her fist, sobs still escaping her lips.

"You don't have to talk about it," I say softly. "It's ok. I know, it's scary. I understand how you feel."

"You understand!," she scoffs, suddenly angry, "you don't _understand!"_

"No, really, I-"

"Look, I can never repay you for saving me. But please- please don't act like you know how I feel just to make talking to me easier!"

"Lexie, I do know," I whisper, trying to stay calm myself.

"No, you don't!," she shouts, "you know how it feels to know that someone is using you?! Just using you because you're so stupid and they're so much better? To have someone whisper the worst things in your ear while ripping your clothes off and tearing away the only dignity you have _left?_ You _know_ how that feels?!"

"Yes, I do," I reply, the tears falling. She looks ready to deny it again, so I take a deep breath and say it. "I know exactly how you feel, Lexie. I know because I was raped too." I let out a shaky breath and collapse into the chair beside the bed. Oh, God. I should've kept it bottled up. The fear that's been keeping in... I've just let it run loose.

"You- you what?"

"I was," I whisper, with a nod. "many times, by the same guy. Over and over again." Now, unable to be repressed, the feelings and thoughts I nearly had when I looked into her eyes last night come flying forward.

For a second that seemed like an eternity, I saw myself. And not, like flashbacks or something. Like I was watching a movie, but it was about me. Me and Bass. And as I saw it, I felt it too. I felt him the sting of the strike, as he slapped me to the ground, and then him kick me in the stomach. I thought every organ just ruptured. I curled into a ball, trying to protect what I can. But that never works. I felt several strands of hair ripped loose from my scalp as he grabbed me and pulled me up. I became breathless from the air flying out of my lungs as he pushed me. I landed on the sheets, and they wrinkled beneath me. I could hear him shouting in my ear that if I wasn't such a bitch and I wasn't so stupid and _pathetic,_ he wouldn't have to do this. That I should just respect him. I felt his hands on my arms, and the knife just graze my skin as he cut my shirt off. And just before I snapped out of it, I once again felt my heart break.

I can't look at Lexie now, because I'm so scared it'll happen again, that I'll see myself. But I can't ignore her. That's the last thing I want to do. Then she'll just feel as if she's worthless, not worth anyone's time, because she's disgusting, she'll think. I can't make her think that. I blink a few times and force myself to look at her. No memories come. Maybe it's because no one has ever looked at me like she has before. Except Rachel. With such a look of understanding. And my head would never grace me with happy memories unless I force them to come.

"I know how scary it is," I finally say, my voice only shaking a little, "But you're safe now. We're safe. No one is going to force us to do anything anymore, alright?" I wipe tears off my cheeks, trying to convince myself of my own words. "If you want, you can go downstairs and find your friends." She can only nod. "Do you want me to go with you?" She shakes her head. "Ok. Ok, I'll... I'll leave you alone."

"I don't wanna face them all!," she calls, just as I reach the door. "And tell them what happened. No, I-I can't do that... not yet."

"I understand," I say quietly.

"But I... really want to see Mark. Can you find him for me? Please?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Of course. I'll send him right up." She nods and I walk towards the door. I pause as I touch the handle, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I open it and leave the room.

"So how'd it-," Scanlon stops as he sees that I've been- still am- crying. "Hey, what happened? What'd she say to you?" I just purse my lips and shake my head.

"It's nothing, I'm fine," I insist, as I walk towards the steps.

"No, Lindsay, you're not fine. You're-"

"I'm _what,_ Scanlon?!," I shout, turning to face him, "crying? Weak? What? What am I?"

"You're scared," he says, softly, "You look scared." I start to say something but all that comes out is a sob-like gasp.

"Just... have someone find a Mark," I say, shaking. Miles is down there. And I don't want him to see me now. And maybe Bass is too. And I can't see him now. I just can't. "Tell him we found Lexie and bring him up here, ok?" He looks at me for a moment. Then he nods.

"Anything else?," he asks softly.

"Get her some food," I murmur, "and don't... don't tell Miles I was crying. And if Bass comes looking for me, don't... just tell him you don't know where I am." With that last request, he fills in the blanks.

"Lindsay, we need to talk about this."

"No, I-I can't," I say, my voice becoming incoherent.

"If you don't want to see Monroe, that's fine," he says, "but don't shut everyone out-"

"Please just do this," I sob, "Please just help me, Scanlon." He sighs and looks at me with a pained expression. He nods.

"Fine. Yeah, ok." I nod my thanks and turn around, walking as fast as I can without it being running and go to the roof.

* * *

_We stayed at the diner longer than we'd meant to. But the opportunity of talking to someone other than just each other was too alluring to Jeremy. And I won't lie. It was nice. As it grew dark, the woman heard us worrying over where we'd sleep, as it was still raining and now we knew of a war clan around here. Sje informed us that the clan was in another town right now so we should be fine. And also that there's an abandoned set of storage units not too far from here. Jeremy and I agreed and paid for our food and then left a pretty big tip. We then left, bet not before I caught sight of the calendar tacked to the wall. _

_Now, we're sitting in one of the storage units. It's safe, it's dry, and once a fire is started, it's warm. But it is very uncomfortable. _

_Jeremy sighs as he sits down next to me, having completed the fire. He rubs his hands together, and passes a blanket over to me._

_"Thank you," I murmur, pulling it so it lays over my arms, while I play with my clock underneath. The ticking reminds me that so much time has passed since I've seen my brother. Or Bass._

_"Ok," Jeremy says, "what's up?" I look at him._

_"Nothing. Why?"_

_"Lindsay, I've known you for almost two years," he replies, "and, in all that time, you've never been this quiet. I would've thought you'd still be chatting about what we learned today."_

_"I harldy know those people, Jeremy," I reply softly, looking toward the fire._

_"I know that. And I realize you're not exactly an extrovert. But even around me? The past few weeks, you've been so quiet." I sigh, releasing the necklace, and resting my arms on my knees, and my chin on my arms. _

_"Tomorrow's my birthday."_

_"Is it?," he asks. "Wow, I didn't know that was the date."_

_"Neither did I," I murmur, "until I saw the calender in the diner today."_

_"Huh," he remarks, then chuckles. "Remember your birthday last year? When Miles got drunk- well, more so than usual, and you got Bass to sing with you. You sang... what was it again?"_

_"Drink With Me, from Les Mis," I reply, smiling a little at the memory._

_"Right. And then you, of course, sang the whole damn musical. You know... that might be the only time I've seen you drunk." He chuckles, then adds. "And you got so excited over that tube of lipstick. Who got you that again?"_

_"Julia Neville," I reply, as my smile falls. "I should've said goodbye to her."_

_"Really? I didn't know you were overly fond of her."_

_"I liked her," I argue, sitting up, but my arms still rest on my knees. "I just can't stand her husband."_

_"Oh, Tom? I know," he shudders dramatically, "ugh. There's just something... uncanny about him. Glad he wasn't at the party." _

_"Yeah," I murmur. There's a pause. I don't say more and neither does he so it turns into an awkward silence._

_"Well, hey," he says, "if you want, we'll go back to the diner, get some sort of special birthday meal or whatever."_

_"No, that's ok," I shake my head. "I want to get to Chicago."_

_"Well, we'll do something," he promises._

_"No, I don't...," I sigh, "I'm not a birthday person."_

_"Yes, you are."_

_"No, I'm not."_

_"Well, you were last year," he says. "so what changed?" I shake my head. "It's Bass, isn't it?" I consider denying it, but then I just nod my head._

_"You know, this'll be the first birthday I spent without him since I was six," I say quietly._

_"Seriously?"_

_"Mmhm," I reply, "even when he was in the Marines. He somehow was always home then."_

_"Wow," he murmurs, "I didn't know you'd known him that long." _

_"Yeah," I sigh, "it feels weird to not have him here."_

_"It'll be ok," Jeremy tries, "someday soon, you're gonna find someone else to spend your birthdays with. And until then, you got me."_

_"Thanks, Jer- wait, what?," I ask, the weight of his words dropping on me. "Someone else?"_

_"Well, yeah, cause you and Bass... you know."_

_"I don't think I do," I shake my head, "Bass and I aren't broken up. No, we're just... I wanted to go somewhere that he didn't. That doesn't mean we're not together anymore. I mean, I'm sure we'll be together for my next birthday. Well before then, even!"_

_"I didn't mean to insult you," he says, "I'm just saying. It's hard to find people these days." I contemplate his words. Did I inadvertently end things with Bass? Does Bass think that? Oh, no! Does he think we're broken up? What if he starts dating someone else?! What have I done? How can I let him know otherwise? Should I go back? But if I do that, that'll only show that I'm incapable of making my own decisions and being independent. I don't want anyone to think that... but..._

_No. Bass isn't stupid. Not that Jeremy is but he just doesn't realize to what depth Bass and I are in love. Bass knows. He knows that I'm simply visiting someone, and we'll be back with each other soon. Yeah, he knows that. He wouldn't go with anyone else. Of course he wouldn't. I'm being silly. It's Bass I'm talking about. I know him and he won't do that._


	19. I'm Not Angry Anymore

The cement is cold, but I can barely register any feeling now. I'm numb. I'm so numb. I cried so hard for a very long time. I'm not even sure how long it's been. I can't bring myself to go inside. I know I should. Angela will be wondering where I am. But Bass could be inside and I'm still not ready to face him.

I've thought a lot about him in the past... well, however long it's been since I stopped sobbing. I've been wondering if I should've ever forgiven him. He hasn't done anything to me, or hasn't wanted to. So I know he's changed. But still. Does he deserve my forgiveness? If we hadn't been together and in love before he went out of control, I know that I wouldn't have forgiven him. He claimed to love me while he was hurting me so much... but while he did the same thing to Rachel, but not saying he was in love with her. Is that better or worse?

And forgiving him... have I let love blind me? Am I being stupid? But... I believe in forgiveness. Cynthia and I spoke about it. But saying you should forgive... and actually doing it... obviously that's hard. But something this bad? Is that supposed to be forgiven? Does God forgive that? Bass isn't the first person to rape... all the others who have... were they ever truly sorry? I've murdered. I'm truly sorry for that. Is that worse than rape? Or better? Are they the same?

As I contemplate life's big mysteries, someone sits next to me. Assuming it's Bass, I put my hand on the ground, ready to push myself up as soon as I confirm it. When I turn my head, though, I see it isn't him. It's Scanlon.

"It's just me," he says.

"Oh," I murmur, relaxing. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he shakes his head slightly.

"Where's Angela?"

"She's with your brother," he says, "he and Rachel took her to the house."

I hesitate, then ask, "And Bass?"

"Here's here," Scanlon says, looking at the evening sun.

"Looking for me?"

He nods.

"Did you tell him? Where I was?"

"No. But he'll figure it out eventually."

"I know," I say, then sigh.

"So what are you gonna do? Hide from him forever?"

"I don't...," I let out a small sound as I try to make words. "I don't know. Not that, obviously. But, I just... I don't know right now."

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

I shake my head.

"You wanna tell me what's happening _now?,"_ he asks. I sigh again.

"Should I... _be_ with him?," I question softly. "I love him still, don't get me wrong. But today, I... I kind of remembered what he did in a very _harsh_ way and I don't know if I can... I was fine yesterday. And the more I think about it, I think maybe later I can be ok around him. But we're married. We're supposed to spend our whole lives together. What if I wake up from a nightmare in twenty years and can't be around him anymore? And, that all aside... should I have ever forgiven him? I mean, he doesn't deserve that. And can he ever make it up to me or can I ever trust him as fully I used to?" There's a silence. He had been looking at me as I spoke. Now, he turns his head to look up at the sky.

"When I was a kid," he says, softer than I've ever heard him speak, "my dad was just... _horrible_ to my mom. She said she loved him. He _said_ he loved _her._ But as soon as I was out of the room, or sometimes when I wasn't... he'd hit her. For things that a normal person wouldn't even yell about. Cold dinner, a jacket wasn't laid out, the light left on... it was awful. And... I didn't know it could _be_ any different. I thought that's how families _just were._ Until," he licks his lips before continuing, "I was about six. And I was invited to a friend's house. And I asked my mom if I could go. She said to ask my father. Well, I did _not_ want to do that. Cause, in my family... you didn't _ask_ for things. You just took what was given and you kept your mouth shut. He never hit me, or my brother or sister, not when I was a kid. But that's because we kept our distance. But my mom... she couldn't. Cause they were married, you know?"

I look at him as he meets my eyes, unable to nod or answer or anything. Why is he telling me this now? I give a slight nod, sadness in my eyes. He understands though and continues.

"Anyway, I really wanted to go. So I asked. He was in a good mood, I guess, because he said sure. So I went. And I'm eating dinner with this kid's family... beautiful house. Better than my piece of crap trailer. And his parents are so nice and loving and just _wonderful_ to each other. I mean, even when my dad was pretending, he wasn't anywhere near that good to my mom. But still, I assumed they were just putting on masks, being nice, because, you know, that's just what people _do._

And then, she knocked over her glass. And the juice was spilling onto the tablecloth. And she was all upset over it. And her husband stood up. And I remember cringing because I thought she was going to get it bad now." He gives a bitter chuckle, "and I looked over at my friend. And I remember thinking, you know, 'what's wrong with him?' Cause everyone's mom goes through this, so every kid should be expecting it. But then her husband chuckles, kisses her, and tells her it's ok, that he'll clean it up. Then he walks out of the room. And I was so... shocked. And that night? I didn't hear any get hit.

I didn't know it wasn't normal. I didn't speak to my friend about it. But when I got home, when dad was gone, I asked my sister about it. She said that it wasn't normal and that mom should leave him and take us with her." Another silence.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, wishing I could do more than just tell him that.

"Don't be," he says, running a hand through his hair, "It's over." I'm still curious as to why he said anything, but I say nothing. However, it appears I don't have to, because he does. "And then I guess you probably wanna know why I'm telling you about my childhood. Well, ok. It, uh, it took a long time for my mom to leave. I was thirteen. My sister was already in college, my brother was eighteen, about to go. And when we left, all I could think was _'finally'._ And we lived in a small apartment for a while. It was nice. At least, I thought so. I came home one day, and what little we owned was in boxes." He shrugs. "We moved back in with him. He was pissed we left him. And she apologized, said she missed him. And then he said he forgave her and he said he loved her. But, as usual, I went to bed, not sleeping, cause I could hear him hit her." He flinches slightly. "It happened again. When I was fifteen, and sixteen, and eighteen. She left, then came back. Every time.

I was smart, and I could go anywhere for college. I mean, not like Harvard or Yale or whatever. But I could get out of there. So I did. I chose, at random, really..." he stops, wanting me to fill in the blank.

"Pittsburgh," I murmur. That coaxes a smile out of him.

"You don't even remember the day I asked you out, do you?"

"I do," I argue, "It hit me the other day."

"Really? That's cool. Remember how long my hair was?," he chuckles. "Yeah, I'm thinking of growing it out." When I don't answer, he sighs. "Right. So, um, the summer after freshman year, I went back home. It was still going on. He was still hurting her. I felt horrible for leaving her with him. But she made me go back. So I did. But Christmas of my sophomore year, I went back. I prayed it would be over. It wasn't. I was gonna surprise them. And I walked in on him stirking her to the ground. And now, I wasn't a kid, you know, I- I was an adult. Being at college had given me the sense of independence from my father I needed. I tackled him. He smacked me across the face. My mom tried to help me... he punched her. That's when I called the cops. I picked up the lamp, knocked him out and called the cops. Told them what he'd done, what he'd been doing, and they took him away. Never saw him again. I might've, if it weren't for the Blackout..." he gets quiet.

"And your mother?"

"She was upset. Said I shouldn't have called the cops. I argued that he had his hand around her throat. He would've killed us both. You know what she said? She said... 'he would've let go soon'." He shakes his head. "I asked her whether I should stay for Christmas. She said she didn't think it was a good idea. I mean, I-I _saved_ her! And she loved the man that _terrorized_ her more than me! How is that right?" Is this a jab at me? He sees my face and quickly adds, "I didn't mean...no, I... I told you all that because... my father kept saying he'd changed. He kept on saying it and saying it. And she kept coming back to him. But he hadn't changed. He was the same piece of crap he was before. And I hated him for it. I still do. And I haven't seen my mother since that night. She died a while ago. But I wasn't there. And, yes, I realize that I did things to cause that. But I blame my father."

"I understand that."

"Yeah, well, she wouldn't," he says, "anyway, uh, you asked me if you should've forgiven Monroe. I don't know. What he did was pretty much the worst thing he possibly _could_ do. And I guess whatever you believe, religion wise, plays into it a lot. But I do know that my mom kept believing my dad when he said he'd changed. And he didn't. But Bass did. He didn't insist or beg you to stay with him. You did as a choice. And unless you've been hiding it, he hasn't hurt you. He's changed, from what I can tell. So maybe you shouldn't let what he did go. But I think he's a good man now. And it's rather inspiring, when you think about it. He did _horrible_ things, and yet he's a good man again. It gives the rest of screw ups hope."

"You're not a screw up," I argue.

"Lindsay, I'm-I'm in a war clan," he chuckles.

_"Were._ This isn't a clan."

"Right, well."

"Ok, maybe you've done some things you're not proud of," I say, "but _everyone_ has. And you also helped save... _how_ many kids?"

"Uh, it's not a final count, but we're figuring about thirty."

"Thirty _kids!,"_ I say, "you're a good person, Scanlon."

"You believe that? Or do you believe I'll end up just like my father?"

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, well, we'll never find out unless I actually _have_ kids. And that's..." he laughs to say how ludicrous it is.

"It could happen."

"Yeah, maybe," he sighs, then grins mischievously. "Hey, do _you_ wanna have my babies?" I laugh for the first time in a while, glad that he's back to his normal self.

"What would you say," I start, with a small smile, "if I ever actually agreed to sleep with you?" He chuckles. "No, I'm serious. What would you do?" He laughs again, like I'm joking. Then, his smile still intact, he looks at me.

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Oh, c'mon, Lindsay," he says, with another chuckle, "I'd never do that."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah, really," he says, "look, you're-you're gorgeous. And hell, if you weren't married and we'd met, like, in a bar or something..." he shrugs. "But in all seriousness, I don't like you like that. You're attractive, yes. But I'm always just joking. If you ever wanted to sleep with me, it'd be because you were sad, or angry, or trying to piss off your husband, or something. And to sleep with you, _knowing_ those were the reasons... that'd be taking advantage of you. And I don't wanna do that. I'm your friend, not some dick who's waiting for you to get pissed so you'll jump into my bed."

"And yet you say you're not a good person," I point out.

"There you are," Bass says. I stiffen and look to my left to see him standing above me. I can only stare up at him, barely making out his features due to the sun behind him. "I've been looking everywhere for you." I take slow, even breaths, trying not to freak. I feel Scanlon's hand brush mine, anchoring me to the present. "Linds? You ok?" I take a deep breath.

"Yeah," I say, too forced. Scanlon lets go of my hand. "Yeah, I'm fine." He crouches down, and I can see the softness in his eyes.

"You've been here all day, you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm ok."

"Ok," he nods, "it's gonna get dark soon, we might as well head on home." I freeze slightly. I think about going home with him. And then we'd go to bed. If I said I didn't want to, he wouldn't push having sex. And he'd attribute it to some flashback about Truman. Or that I've had an exhausting day. But he'd still be in bed next to me. And I could tell him that makes me uncomfortable and I hope he'd back off but then he'd know something's up. And I don't want that.

"Uh, I, um," I stutter, searching for some reason not to be with my husband tonight. "I was- I was gonna stay at the hospital tonight. In case Lexie needs me. You know, if she wakes up in the middle of the night again, she might want me more than someone else."

"That makes sense," he allows, "should I get the baby or leave her with Miles?"

"What? Oh, no, Bass," I say quickly, "you should go back home. I'll be alright."

"Linds, it's ok," he insists, "I don't mind."

"But there aren't any double beds," I point out, "only twins in the break room. We'll be squished. And plus, I'll wake you up _every_ time Lexie needs me. And what if Angela needs something? I don't wanna put that burden on Miles. He's done enough."

"Alright, I guess you've got some points," he says. He wraps his hands around mine and pulls me to my feet. He kisses my forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

"Mhmm."

"Ok," he sighs, bringing his lips to mine. I kiss him back, focusing on the fact that I do love him. And the past year that was so good.

"I love you."

"I love you too," he murmurs, slowly letting go of my hands and walking away. A tear slips out of my eye as he closes the door.

"You ok?," Scanlon asks, standing next to me now. I nod.

"I just hate lying to him."

* * *

**Two years after the Blackout**

_"Woah, Linds," Jeremy stops me as I step onto the stoop of the hotel. "Are you sure this is where your brother said to meet him? It's looks pretty sketchy." I look up at it. _

_"The Grand," I say, "yeah, this is it." I look around. There's not much here. There's a couple stands set up, one selling fish. It's near some body of water, so I guess it's a good fish market. But there's no one else here. The Grand is boarded up. One door is functioning though. _

_"Alright," Jeremy says uncertainly. He pushes the door open. It sticks and he had to put some force into it. I step back quickly as some wood splinters off. He looks back at me and raises his eyebrows. "You and your brother __**are**__ on good terms, right?"_

_"Yeah, of course," I reply. But as I walk into what looks like a very shady pub, I add, "At least I thought so." There are hardly any candles lit. The tables pushed towards the back are barely illuminated. Tiny stubs of light glow from the tips of cigarettes. Close to the door, illuminated by the light we let in, there's a woman in what hardly qualifies as a dress. She looks at Jeremy first and smiles, asking if he wants 'a night of fun'. He blushes, then declines. She turns to me. _

_"No, no thank you," I stutter before the words are out of her mouth, "I'm good." As we walk toward the counter in the center, my eyes adjust to the dimmed room and I see a few men sitting on one side of the bar. I don't like how they're looking at me. _

_"Excuse me?," Jeremy asks. "We're looking for a Ben Matheson?"_

_"Names aren't my specialty," the bartender grunts. _

_"Has anybody walked in here asking for a Lindsay?," I ask. "He w-_

_"Is that your name, baby?," a guy at the bar asks. I glance at Jeremy, at a loss for words, before looking over at the man, my mouth still open slightly. I shake it off and turn back to the bartender._

_"Look, we need to find this guy," I say. "He's supposed to be here."_

_"Sorry, girl, I don't-"_

_"I could give you what you're looking for," the guy cuts him off. "Just as soon as you give me what __**I'm**__ looking for." His buddies snicker. I ignore him and look at Jeremy. _

_"It's ok," I say quietly, "he said until the seventh. It's only the fifth." _

_"Yeah, ok," Jeremy nods. "Let's get out of here." He looks at the bartender. "Is there any place we can stay tonight?"_

_"Sorry, there isn't much h-"_

_"I don't know about you, buddy," the man says, drunkenly, and stands up, "but she can stay with __**me **__tonight. I'll show her what she wants." _

_"Hey, man, leave her alone," Jeremy says. _

_"No, I don't think I will just yet," he chuckles, while his friends shout encouragement. He approaches me. My hand goes to my knife but I hope I don't have to use it. "What do you say, baby? Ditch the twig and spend the night with a real man?"_

_"No, thank you," I say dangerously. "Back off." There's a chorus of "ooh"s from his buddies. I step back. "Leave me alone." _

_"What about what__** I **__want?," he asks, "I've got __**needs,**__ sweetheart." _

_"I'm sure you'll figure something out," I say. And then, my pride getting the better of me, I add, "Hopefully, that means not being such a lowlife jackass." It takes a moment for him to register what I said. But once he does, he gets angry. He raises his arm and smacks me full in the face_

_"You leave her the hell alone," Jeremy snaps, pulling out his knife. _

_"Jeremy, come on," I say, grabbing his arm, my other hand on my face, "let's just go." He stands there, ready to strike. "Jeremy, please." Reluctantly, he puts away the knife and turns around. I let go of his arm and we walk towards the door. _

_"Are you ok?," he asks me. I nod. _

_"I'm alright," I murmur, "let's just get out of here and wait for Ben." He's about to open the door when it opens and someone steps inside._

_"Oh, sorry," he says, seeing an unfamiliar face. But that's not what I see. _

_"Ben!" _

_"Lindsay?," my little brother asks and hugs me. "Oh my God, Linds! It's actually you?"_

_"Who the hell else would it be, Benjamin?," I ask, rolling my eyes, but still smiling. _

_"Wow, I didn't think you'd be here right on the fifth!"_

_"No, __**Miles**__ is the late one, remember?"_

_"True," he laughs, then catches sight of Jeremy. "Who is this?"_

_"Oh, this is Jeremy," I reply, "he's been with us for a while, and he decided to walk with me here before he goes to Boston."_

_ "Well, thank you for watching out for my sister."_

_"No problem," Jeremy says, "though, I'm a little confused as to why you had your sister come to __**this**__ place." Ben looks around. _

_"Yeah, uh, it wasn't a bar last time I was here. It was just a boarded up hotel. I figured it'd be easy to find."_

_"Well, it doesn't matter now," I assure him._

_"Alright," he says, "I've got a wagon out front, so we can get out of here as soon as- wait, where's Miles and Bass?" He grins, squinting past me through the dark. "Probably getting a drink, right?" _

_"No, actually," I tell him, "they didn't- __**couldn't-**__ come." _

_"Why not?"_

_"They had... things to do back at our camp."_

_"What things?," he asks. I smile. Ben always asks too many questions._

_"I'll explain later."_

_"Oh, right. I'm sure you're tired. We'll get to the house and- Jeremy, you're welcome to stay with us for a bit."_

_"Oh, no," he waves off the offer, "I've got some more walking to do, it's fine."_

_"Jeremy, come on," I plead, "stay and rest for a while before you get back on the road. Even if it's just one night."_

_"Alright," he says after a moment. "I guess I could stay for a night."_

* * *

Lexie didn't need me. I walked past her room to check on her to see her asleep, holding someone's hand. With a bit of surprise, I realized that the boy I saved, who asked me where she was, must be Mark. I wonder if he knows what happened.

After that, I continued on, wanting to see Angela, but not wanting to go home. Gene stopped me on my way to the on-call room.

"Lindsay? Shouldn't you be getting home?"

"No, I-I'm sleeping here tonight," I said, "if that's ok."

"Yeah, sure, we've got plenty of room," he replied, "is everything alright?"

"Yeah," I said with a forced smile. "But I'm super tired. I'd rather go to bed than explain it right now."

"Ok," he said, "I'll be sure to tell the guys to stay out of there."

"Yeah," I yawned, "thanks."

Now, I'm laying on the bed in the on-call room. Apparently there is a double bed. Sleep isn't coming. And I'm not sure if I want it to. Surely any minute that I sleep will be accompanied by nightmares.

There's a window in here, and I can tell it's very late, possibly midnight. I get an odd feeling that someone is in the room with me. I light a candle quickly and see that Garrett is sitting in a chair across from me.

"When did you get here?," I ask.

"About a minute ago," he replies softly. I stare at him, looking deeply into his eyes, only to find the look of caring that was always there. "What?"

"I'm just trying to find a fault. And I can't."

"Wow," he says, with a modest smile, blushing, "Well, uh, th-thanks, Linds. That's-that's really nice of you."

"No," I say, "No, I just meant... how does my brain recreate you to such small detail?" He sighs.

"Why is it that when _Nora_ comes, you speak to her as if she never died," he says, "but when_ I_ do, you insist it's a hallucination?"

"It _is_ a hallucination," I insist, ignoring the question about Nora. "I have a brain tumor. Likely a big one."

"I don't understand you," he says, "you find out you may have something in your brain _killing_ you... and you don't _tell_ anybody, you don't _think_ about it, you just _accept_ it?"

"I've had other things on my mind."

"But how can anyone help you if they don't-"

_"Help_ me?," I repeat, "Help- Garrett, no one can _help_ me. I mean, Gene is a good doctor, but brain surgery _this_ day in age? It's not happening. It's not _possible."_

"So what then? You'll just let yourself wither away until you die?," he demands, concerned. Like real Garrett would be. I decide to attempt to change the subject.

"You want me to act like I would around Nora? Pretend you're real? Ok. Why are you here? Why now?"

"I'm here for y-"

"Don't give me that crap," I snap, "I want a real answer. Why, after no one appears for over a week, do you show up now?" Then, I figure it out. "It's because of Bass, isn't it? It's because of how I've been feeling lately."

"I don't know what you're feeling," he argues.

"Then what do you know?"

"I know," he sighs, "that he hurt you. And I know that you told that war clan-"

"Scanlon," I correct.

"Yeah, him. You told him you were having second thoughts about this marriage."

"And you jumped at the opportunity. Of course, you'd be _thrilled_ about that."

"I'm not thrilled," he says. He stands and gestures to the bed next to me. "May I?" I nod and he sits down. "Lindsay, all I've really wanted, concerning you, since I kissed you on Christmas, is for you to be happy. So, no, I don't like that you're with him. I don't think you'll ever be truly happy with him. But-"

"Do you think I could've been truly happy with you?"

"Do _you?"_

"I don't know," I admit, "I think I could've fallen in love with you. I think I was falling in love with you for a while there. But," I sigh, "some part of me would always want Bass." I give a small chuckle.

"What is it?"

"I've told you all this before."

"I think I would've remembered."

"No, I- I didn't really," I reply, "remember when I got shot? And I told you I was with you in some comatose world? I told you all this when I left."

"What did I say?"

"You wanted to know if I'd forget what we had in the dream world."

"Oh. Were we happy?"

"Yes. But it was like I never had feelings for Bass. Actually, now that I think about it, it was more your dream world than mine." He chuckles. "So what now? What did you come to say?"

"I came to ask you if you were happy? And if you were confident he wouldn't hurt you again?" I ponder his words.

"Sometimes I get scared," I say, "like I did today. But not because he did anything. Just because of what he has done. But I think about how he kisses me now, so sweetly. And I watch him play with our child. And then I think about what Scanlon said today. And I realize that, yes, a lot of bad things have happened to me. And most of them because of him. But he truly has changed. And I don't know if I can ever trust him the way I used to. But, I... I _want_ to. And the fact that he _has_ changed like that... it makes me less scared." He's quiet for a while.

"The last few weeks of my life," he says, "I was so angry at both you and him. Him for doing what he did, you for forgiving him. But, when you talk the way you do, it makes me think you'll be ok. I know you're not asking for my permission, and you shouldn't. But if you did, I would give it now." That shocks me.

"Thank you," I finally say, with a smile.

"Sure," he nods, "I'll see you around, ok?" I nod. He gets up, opens the door, and leaves.

* * *

_"Rachel!," I exclaim, in pure joy, as she runs out her front door to meet me. I don't look at the house or Ben or anything except my best friend I haven't seen in over two years. _

_"Lindsay, hi!," she shrieks, equally thrilled, reaching me. I hug her tightly._

_"Oh, my God! I missed you!," I gush, pulling away._

_"Oh, I know!," sbe pouts, then brightens, "how've you been?"_

_"Good, I've been good," I reply. _

_"And how are the boys?," she asks, looking behind me, expecting to see them but only seeing Jeremy. She looks confused._

_"They're good too. They just couldn't make it. This is my friend, Jeremy. He helped me get here."_

_"Oh, nice to meet you," she says. He nods and they shake hands._

_"He'll, uh, be staying here for a bit," Ben says._

_"If it's alright with you, of course," Jeremy adds._

_"Of course," she says, "any friend of Lindsay's is a friend of ours. Well, come on in. I just put the kids to bed, but I've got plenty of soup ready."_

_"Oh, please tell me it's-"_

_"My mom's famous potato soup?," she finishes for me. "Yes, it is!"_

_"God, Rachel, you're the best!," I exclaim. We hurry inside, chatting quietly and excitedly about what's been going on the past two years. _

_..._

_"That was amazing, Mrs. Matheson," Jeremy says when we're finished eating. I chuckle. I haven't heard anyone call her that in a long time._

_"Rachel, please," she says._

_"It was amazing," I add, "as expected." She beams._

_"Thank you both," she replies. "Oh my God, Linds, I cannot wait for tomorrow morning. The kids have been so excited to see you!"_

_"They remember me?," I ask with a smile._

_"Of course," she says. I give her a look and she sighs, then laughs. "Charlie does. I'm not sure Danny remembers your name, but he was very attached to you, I'm sure he'll remember your face."_

_"Well, he was only two last time I saw him," I add, "oh, wait! His birthday is in a little over a week, isn't it?!" _

_"Mmhmm," she says happily, "he'll be five." _

_"Wow," I remark, "that's crazy."_

_"I know," she agrees, "believe me, on Charlie's ninth, I felt so old." I roll my eyes. _

_"Oh, please, you're not even thirty," I laugh. She shrugs. _

_"Well, with the life expectancy these days...," Ben remarks. _

_"Ben!," Rachel reprimands. _

_"Oh, c'mon, Lindsay is my sister, she's used to it."_

_"Yes, but Jeremy isn't."_

_"Oh, no, I am," Jeremy argues politely, "I've spent the past two years with your brother."_

_"It's true," I add, "Their shockingly optimistic view of life is really the only thing Miles and Ben have in common." We all laugh and talk as we finish off our drinks before Ben announces he's going to bed. _

_"Oh, yeah," I remark, "it is getting dangerously close to eight o'clock, isn't it?"_

_"Watch it," he warns, "or I'll give you the scratchy blankets."_

_"You wouldn't dare," I challenge. He chuckles and says good night. Rachel says she'll show Jeremy and I to our rooms. After she shows Jeremy, she comes back to the kitchen. _

_"Hey, let me help you with the dishes," I offer._

_"Oh, no, that's alright."_

_"Rachel, come on. I'm not tired anyway."_

_"Alright," she sighs dramatically, "fine." I smile and we start clearing the table. "So, really, how are Miles and Bass?"_

_"They're good." I reply, "Supposedly, Miles may be able to get mail into Chicago every so often."_

_"That'd be nice," she says. "It's not all as bad as the part you were in, I promise." _

_"I certainly hope so."_

_"So, how are you and Bass? He couldn't have been too happy about you leaving?"_

_"Well, no, he wasn't," I admit, "but, you know, he couldn't __**make**__ me stay."_

_"Right, right," she nods. "But you guys are still together?"_

_"Oh, yeah, of course," I reply, "actually, I want him to come up here as soon as possible."_

_"Yeah, ok, so what are these 'previous engagements' they have at your camp?"_

_"Ugh," I roll my eyes, "This is going to sound insane."_

_"It's Bass and Miles," she points out._

_"Yeah, yeah, I know," I sigh, "so I guess I'm not __**too**__ too surprised, but still... anyway, so they're trying to, like, um..." I struggle for words, "Ok. While we were on the road, we saw some pretty bad stuff, the four of us. And we were even attacked once. Well, actually a few times. But one time, it got... serious." I supress a shudder, thinking about it. "But they helped some other people too, that's actaully how we met Jeremy. Anyway, after seeing all of this, and seeing some groups band together, they- well, Miles, really, Bass kind of just agreed- he decided he wants to start... well, I don't really know what to call it... he just wants some order, I guess. Someone to keep others from mindlessly killing." _

_ "Like... a police force?," she asks, skeptically_

_"Yeah, kind of," I agree, noticing her tone, "Yeah, see? I told it'd sound weird. Anyway, it's kind of like that, but... I mean, I guess it'd be like a militia. Like, they wouldn't actively hunt down people or something, but if our camp or town or whatever it grows into, gets attacked, there'll be men ready to fight. And," I add, "as crazy as it seems, it also looks like they might be onto a good idea."_

_"How's that? They're just gonna get themselves killed."_

_"I don't think so," I argue, "They've got quite a few guys willing to get in on it. But why it might be a good idea is because while on the way here, Jeremy and I saw and heard about a bunch of different clans who seem to be just going around ravaging camps and forcing villages to pay taxes or they'll, like, kindap people."_

_"Oh, wow," she says in concern, "that's bad."_

_"Yeah," I reply, "so I'm thinking maybe Miles was just a step ahead of everyone, and he's trying to get some guys to be able to defend their loved ones, that's all."_

_"Well, I mean," she shrugs slightly, "it kind of makes sense when you put it like that."_

_"I know," I nod. "Anyway, that's why they couldn't leave. Cause they have to, like, be there and be leaders for the men that may want in om this."_

_"Oh, that's true," she says softly, "well, maybe when they get more settled, they can come up, or we can go down or something."_

_"Maybe," I agree, "I don't know. I'm hoping they'll come up here soon. I didn't want to leave them, but I wasn't going to just ignore my other family for __**their**__ cause, you know?"_

_"Yeah," she agreee, then puts a hand on my shoulder, "don't worry. Bass and Miles love you. They won't just lose contact entirely. I'm sure you'll see them before next summer."_

_"Let's_ hope," I agree, before smiling and saying good night, grabbing my bag as I walk to the room she pointed out.


End file.
